I am young. Sometimes I just have to type those words out to convince myself that its true. I’m only 26, but last weekend I was watching Saturday Night Live and this new boy band, One Direction, was the musical guest. The moment they hit the stage I was overwhelmed with the realization that I am getting old.
The fact of the matter is that I have a child; therefore I surrendered my youth to the next generation years ago. My body waved the white flag the moment I realized cocoa butter does not cure stretch marks. I am to forever wear my badges of courage all over my thighs and hips. That never bothered me but something about seeing these teenagers sing in unison lit a light bulb in my head: It’s over.
Our first guest post come from Darren Pecoraro. If you would like to post please email us.
As a father of 2 young boys, I have seen and heard it all at least twice, but nothing will ever top the events of a day which we refer to in my home simply as “the fecal incident”. When I became a father, I believed steadfastly that I would treat each child the same, be fair, and try to be magnanimous in the way I handled all situations. When reality sinks in, all parents know that this is a virtual impossibility.