Being a dad. I’m a dad.

Sometimes I shock myself by the reminder of that reality.  The kids, missing them horribly tonight, today.  Often think they are the ONLY source of writing for me.  How Henry could walk any day now, Jack always telling me what he’s learned and how he loves playing catch with me like Wednesday night in the backyard then playing soccer versus each other.  And of course the light and love of my life, Emmie….  Six years old soon.

Fatherhood, like a university – a reflective plain and plateau.

Last night at the casino only think about them, and their mother, and all of this.  Sometimes I think I should write about ALL of it and post it, universally ONBLOG.  No I then say, stopping self.  Save for book.

The kids, like little professors.  The whole #professormikey thing easily pushed to side, EASILY, by the little professors Jack, Emma, and Henry Lucas.  Old pictures from Facebook memories then little Henry just the other night, the same Wednesday, sipping from his wee cup looking up at me groaning for more food the lifting his arms insisting I hold him.  Of course I’m biased, but he’s fascinating.  All three of them.

Back to classroom.