First off, I’m a father of 5. And I honestly don’t enjoy it like, 90% of the time. For one thing, I’m not allowed to be a kid myself. I’m forced to be an adult and I really don’t like adults much at all (which is probably why I spend so much time here, but I digress). The other thing that makes it less than enjoyable is that I can’t just go and do whatever I want because my every action is scrutinized by the little ones and incorporated into their lives and, while I don’t mind them emulating my awesome qualities, I’d rather they not emulate my less-than-stellar ones.
At any rate, this kid in our neighborhood died this week. Jared is the same age as my oldest, Peter (7 ½) so it definitely hits home. The two of them used to walk home from school together and were on the same soccer team. In fact, I coached the team last Fall. That was about the time Jared was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor at the base of his skull. Nearly a year later he’s gone.
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