Many kids look forward to losing a tooth so that they can have a visit from the tooth fairy. I’ve come to hate the tooth fairy.
There are so many stresses that we have as parents, as husbands, as wives, as colleagues that we all need that one moment to ourselves. Whether it is just 5 minutes, 20 minutes, or an hour in my case that we can call our own.
It has been months leading up to that night when I was kneeling before him asking him if he was going to listen to me. Crying as he said he would, realizing that his actions have resulted in yet another Emergency Room visit, and to his despair, more stitches.
My stress level is already high enough, hoping my kid does well, plays nicely with others, earns an Ivy League school scholarship in Kindergarten, won’t fart and blame it on some unsuspecting student, be the one known to pick his nose and eat it, or fighting back the tears watching my son grow up so fast right in front of my eyes.
Just as quickly had our ordinary labor and delivery turned, my plans changed. My wife was in no state to take care of our newborn, and as much as I knew that the nurses in the nursery would have taken excellent care of him, I didn’t want to be that dad who just leaves him with them. I knew that my night was just getting started.