Poor guy
Oct/080
Wasn’t around at all this weekend because I had my son, the legendary Nolan. He was quite sick as he had his back teeth coming in and it caused a fever. He pretty much had a non stop runny nose and cough all weekend, no good. I did whatever I could to cheer him up; bought him stuff, told him how lucky he was to look like me, taught him a few words, read him The Bro Code, but nothing worked. He was just sick and I felt bad for the little guy. He’s a soldier though, just like his dad, so he’ll be alright (full disclosure: we are not soldiers.)
There was one ***** moment that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Nolan has been saying more and more lately and he’s got “dada” and “mama” down by heart, but I’ve always wondered if he knows what it means or if he even knows who his dad is. I get kind of paranoid sometimes that my baby’s mother is sitting around teaching him to call her boyfriend dad, you know? Instead of moping about it I decided to just teach him to call me dad. It’s not like he’s just going to figure it out. So I put him on my lap and pointed to myself a couple of times and said “daddy” and then I pointed at him and put my finger in his chest and said “Nolan” a couple times. He grabbed my finger off of his chest and put it onto my chest and said “dada” I honestly almost cried. And then I almost cried when he did it again, THE NEXT DAY. A memory my son has. I love that kid.
