Vol. 15 - Reasons My Son Cried this Week

After the heaviness of last week’s newsletter (and a heartfelt thank you for all the notes, calls, emails, and texts. I’m happy to report that my old man is doing great), I wanted to approach this week with a bit of levity.

Thus, I present to you…

An Incomplete Selection of Reasons My Son Cried this Week

Because he couldn’t use one of my power tools.

Because all eighteen snow balls he collected on our snow-day walk eventually melted.

Because he couldn’t ride his five-month old sister like a horse.

Because I wouldn’t let him chop vegetables with our very sharp chef’s knife.

Because we don’t have a spaceship.

Because he’s afraid of falling into a black hole.

(In his defense, so am I.)

Because we were going to surprise his sleeping mom with a nice, hot sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich but she couldn’t come with us to the bagel shop because she was asleep.

Because he couldn’t wear a pair of boots that had holes in both boots. On a 28-degree day. In four inches of snow.

Because I wouldn’t leave him in the truck after we got home (on the same 28-degree day).

Because I had to put on his maroon pants.

Because I had to take off his maroon pants.

Because I asked him not to shine a Mag Light in his 5-month-old sister’s eyes from a foot away.

Because he had to poop. He wasn't constipated. Nor is he afraid to poop. Nor did I tell him he couldn't poop. He was as free to poop as a person has ever been to poop. But the idea of it made him cry.

Because I had to change his poop.

Because I asked him if he wanted to watch Frozen 2.

Because I fixed his Power Wheels. But I didn't fix it the right way.

Because he’s not big enough to ride in front seat, "even though he’s big now."

Because I wouldn’t let him drive our truck.

Because we waited for his mom to get in the truck rather than leaving her in the snow.

Because he was afraid take a Covid test. 

(In his defense, so am I)