Tag: dad

Dad Brog (#120): the 2023 Famiry Disney Trip

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Typically, I imagine a lot of people look forward to taking a week off and going down to Disney World with their families.  But a lot of people also aren’t stodgy curmudgeons who is always financially paranoid and also knows just how much work two toddlers are regardless of how many adults are going to be involved in the trip, so personally it’s not so much that I was gleefully looking forward to taking a week off at the Happiest Place on Earth™ as much as I was just mentally trying to psych myself up for the sheer amount of, lift, that would entail on a trip as such.

I mean, two of the things that are basically atop of my general pet peeve list these days are crowds and being up against a clock, and Disney trips are typically nothing but dealing with gargantuan crowds and always being up against a clock since there are fast passes, lightning lanes, genie passes or whatever else that puts clocks on top of everyone’s heads.  Not to mention despite the fact that the weather is just now finally starting to cool off in Georgia, we head down to Florida, where it’s still going to be 90F+ every day, along with the daily Florida rains to contend with, and it’s like asking myself, why do we keep coming back to Florida over and over again?

Regardless, I don’t want to be a total curmudgeon that brings down those all around me, so I did my best to be optimistic that things were going to be okay, and I deliberately planned absolutely nothing at all for myself, since trips like these really are for my kids above all else.  Because if I had any real allusions that I would have any actual time for anything that I wanted to do, I would be cranky in the very likely chance that they did not occur.

Overall, it was probably for the best that I went into the trip with such gameplan, because by simply rolling with the general agenda that mythical wife had set up and just reacting to what was in front of me, I can say that I think the trip went well, I didn’t burn out too much, and most importantly, I think my kids had a really great time, and I can take some really positive and core memories out of the trip as a whole.

Sure there were a few moments where I get fried where I feel like I’m the only one watching the kids while everyone around me is constantly shopping or indulging themselves while the girls grow restless and cranky and I’m the only one seemingly caring, but frankly this is often the case regardless of if we’re in Disney or Florida or anywhere really.

It’s the moments where I’m with my kids and I see them getting enjoyment or having fun in ways that aren’t available to them back at home, that make trips like these worth it, no matter how much angst or frustration I deal with at any other point during them.  Seeing my kids’ faces light up when they meet their favorite (current) Disney princess, or they get to eat something that we normally don’t let them eat at home, these are the true core memories that emerge from a trip while any of the fleeting frustration or grumpiness about daily changing sleeping arrangements get dumped into forgotten memories by the end of the trip.

But my god, I think the pinnacle of this trip for me, was seeing just how mind-blown and enthralled both of my girls were, when they experienced the big slide at our resort.  I had no real intention of letting either of them go down it, thinking they were too young or too small to handle it.  I figured the baby slide that was like 6 feet and a gentle, straight slope would be the highlight of their trip, and they seemed to like it fine, going down it like 30 times each, with me catching them at the bottom of it every time.

Then I noticed that some kids not much bigger or older than #1 coming down the big slide, and I’m asking the lifeguard if there was any age or size restrictions on it, to which they responded that there weren’t, other than kids like mine needing life jackets for safety reasons.  I stood at the bottom of the slide watching kids come down, and sure enough it wasn’t long before not just #1, but #2 wanted to try the slide, so it was the moment of truth to see if they could handle it or not, since we had the au pair who could catch them at the bottom while I took them up top.

Surely, one or both of my kids would be traumatized, or be that kid at the water park who puts on the hand brakes and gets themselves stuck and makes a scene, right??  I let #1 down the slide first, and she did a little bit of braking for herself, but otherwise went down the slide without any other incident.  #2, I had more concern for, being smaller and fragile, but when I set her on her way, watching her go down the slide, the smile on her face, man, was totally one of those things where if I could bottle that kind of joy and enjoyment and sell it to others, I would be rich three times over.

After sliding down myself to get my kids’ opinions on the slide, they were absolutely beside themselves and practically begging to get back up the stairs and go down the slide again, and again, and again, to which the au pair and I obliged and took turns at taking them up while the other caught them at the bottom.

After the 6th or 7th trip down the slide, I’m asking myself, why bother with exorbitant admission into the parks, when they’ve clearly found the highlight of their trip from one of our resort’s amenities?

Either way, that was probably my favorite memory of this year’s Disney trip.  I know that in future years, things will continue to get easier as my kids grow, and their sleeping arrangements change and settle, and we’ll need less and less assistance, but I can still say that this year’s trip wasn’t nearly as exhaustingly clunky as the one prior.

But of course, nothing can go too smooth, and despite the fact that the travel was going fairly smooth, it naturally came crashing to a literal stop, as it wasn’t until we started getting closer to Atlanta did we start to hit catastrophic traffic not just once, but two times, once in fucking McDonough, which is basically like the Gwinnett County that’s south of the city instead of north of it, and then naturally there’s a great big old nothing-caused turd of standstill traffic traversing through the actual City of Atlanta.

And I still don’t know what it was, although I suspect it might’ve been an excess of sun exposure, but I got waylaid pretty hard at the very end of the trip, dealing with a fever and body aches on the drive back, as well as throughout the weekend concluding our trip.

Overall, I’d say the trip was still pretty good though.  Several good memories were made with my family, and fewer things snap me out of grumpy moods than seeing my girls being filled with joy.  One of these years I’ll actually get to enjoy Food & Wine again, but I wouldn’t trade fun time with my kids for anything, so no regrets with forfeiting something I’ve done countless times already for the comfort and safety of my kids.

Dad Brog (#120): Hey look it’s me

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I never thought I’d ever see such an accurate representation of me in a book, but considering the fact that there’s basically no such thing of a parenting story where there aren’t thousands of other parents who can’t relate, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.  Frankly, I’m rather tickled at the notion that this picture is basically me to a tee, seeing as how it’s clearly an Asian dad with two daughters that surreptitiously look to be if anything at all, a similar gap in age as my own daughters.

Not that I want all my dad brogs to be nothing but giant written bitch-fests about the plight of my life as a dad, it’s safest to assume that when there is no news, it’s probably in an adequate state to where I don’t want to jump off a cliff.  I know that that’s not necessarily the best approach to when it comes to writing about my life as dad, but when things aren’t so bleak, then my mind is usually free to write about other things, like sports, wrestling or commentary about design or the bullshit of Atlanta.

Really though, things as a parent have been pretty steady.  Then again, I’m unfortunately in the office four days a week now, which really cuts in my ability to actually spend time with my children, but as the days go, I’m still the one waking up at 7 am every morning, every single day, week day or weekend, to make sure that breakfast is ready for the girls, and I get a little bit of time with them every morning before I go to the office, and by the time I get home, I have maybe an hour to 90 minutes of time before it’s bath and bed time.

On the same token, the kids are enrolled in pre-K and dance classes, which takes a tremendous toll on my family’s finances, but boredom is the penultimate enemy of toddlers, and I do like the idea that my kids have extracurriculars to explore and participate in, as opposed to being at home where they’re more likely to get bored and cranky as a result of boredom.

#1, aside from irrational meltdowns over the silliest shit, is pretty easy going as far as three-year olds come, and I’m proud of her daily growth and her demonstrative patience she shows for her little sister, and instead of resorting to biting and shoving first, she’s shown the ability to try and verbally attempt to discourage instead of going straight to physical action.

#2, however, as the story of my life goes, has been the more challenging child, and I have to often be reminded of how different my kids are and how normal that is, and to not compare apples to apples.  But with her, we’re dealing with a seemingly deliberate rebellion to potty training, and almost daily, we’re dealing with peeing and occasional pant-shitting, because she just won’t verbalize when she needs to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes it seems deliberate, and it really could be just that, but there was a period when she first began potty training that it seemed like she was a natural, solely because she had a big sister whom she watched and emulated, but over the last few weeks, there are times in which it seems like she is peeing or pooping outside of the potty, almost in an act of defiance, or jealousy to attention being given to her sister.

Furthermore, we’re dealing with a lot of picky eating habits with #2 lately, where there are times in which she just doesn’t eat.  I know I’m dealing with a toddler here, but wasting food drives me bonkers, and it’s hard to not take it personally considering I’m basically the only one who cooks in my household, and when my kids or honestly anyone I cook for, doesn’t at least appreciate the effort I put in for them, it really is disheartening.

I’m hoping in time all of these not-quite savory behaviors will correct themselves sooner rather than later, as both are rather important, but all things considered, the overall picture of my life as a parent right now, compared to where it was like a year ago is still glowing comparatively.  It’s like we’ve long passed the threshold where my first kid was basically being repeated with a second child, and we’re in a stage of life where #1 is experiencing new things on a regular basis and we as parents can see it through their eyes as well, and #2 has marched into territory in life where she’s as old as her sister was when she came into the world, and I have a really hard time believing that my kids are 3 and 2 respectively

Dad Brog (#119): Sometimes I’d rather not know

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

For quite some time, I’ve usually been that type of guy that just never goes to the doctor, unless something is actively wrong.  Never did any annual checkups, physicals or anything other than eye exams or going to urgent care for what always seems like prednisone whenever I go.  I often used to say this stemmed from not wanting to miss out on work on account of the long stretch when I was freelancing and contracting, and when I wasn’t working then I wasn’t earning, but the truth is that even when I had landed full-time work with actual benefits, I still didn’t go then either, even if I were paying for it.

Then I got married, and that didn’t really change, except for the fact that I now had a wife that encouraged me to go, but I still made excuses and dragged my feet and resisted going, because I just didn’t really want to.  I felt fine, I exercised regularly, and I didn’t eat like a shithead too much, so I never felt like it was worth going since I felt fine, strong and healthy.

But then I had children, and I crossed into 40, so I finally relented and made the effort to at the very least, have an annual, just to make sure things were copacetic.  And last year, it was about what I had suspected, I was pretty much fine, with no real concerns.  I had little reason to think it was going to be any different this year, but if that were the case then I wouldn’t be writing this post now, would I?

The TL;DR is that it turns out that I’ve put on a not-insubstantial amount of weight, and my blood pressure is kind of high.  The thing is that despite the weight gain, my clothes all fit the same, save for some tightness in the chests of my shirts, but my pants all still fit, I still use the same rung on my belts, and I don’t really feel any different than I did physically a year ago, or longer.

But I don’t want to be the asshole who gets all “uuhhhhhh muscle weighs more than fat brah” and humble brag that I’ve been hitting the weights, and that my weight gain is solely based on the fact that I’ve been going to the gym with consistency over the last two years, versus the nearly two-year stretch in which I dropped a lot of muscle mass because of COVID affecting my ability to hit a gym.  Of course, I did hit my share of lazy stretches where my household eats a bunch of fast food or dines out/takes out more than we really should, but I do like to believe that some of my weight gain really is having put on some muscle mass back on over the last year.

The bigger thing though, is the blood pressure reading, that was high enough to where the tech and my doctor wanted to point it out as being high.  My knee-jerk reaction was to ask just how much correlation there is between BP and stress, to which the answer was a high one, and I feel like I already know why I’m having elevated blood pressure.

Continue reading “Dad Brog (#119): Sometimes I’d rather not know” →

Dad Brog (#118): What the future might feel like

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

This past Friday, I dropped my kids off at school for the first time this year, since I have to be in the office on Mondays and Wednesdays.  Obviously it’s important to me to be present and active in my children’s lives at these early stages of their life, even when doing little things like taking them to school on the days in which I work from home.

Despite the fact that our au pair said that #2 didn’t cry at all on the first or second day, naturally she busts out crying when I drop her off; I’m guessing their general separation anxiety they feel with me from time to time kicked in, and I’ve got a crying child being escorted into school.

Anyway, I get home from dropping the kids off, and I step inside from the garage, and it’s suddenly eerily quiet.  I told our au pair to take the morning off and relax, because I don’t want to be a clock watcher in regards to her working time, and there was little point for her to get up early for like 15 minutes when I was going to be the one taking her to school, so she was chilling up in her room, adding to the quiet calmness in my house.

It’s like I don’t think non-parents understand just how noisy and elevated excitement the presence of children are, much less two toddlers.  Even when they’re doing something quiet and calm, there’s always this metaphorical sense of bated breath, that at any given moment, one or both of the kids can go off the rails, the thumbing of running footsteps, anything in arm’s reach is in danger again, and it’s back to high-alert for the kid watchers.

Last school year, only #1 was in school, and regardless of how chill #2 typically was, it was still the duty of parenting that made me or whomever was watching, to have to be on readiness for, needing to parent, to where it still didn’t feel like the complete sense of calm that was felt when I got home from dropping them both off.

With no kids in the house, it’s like even the house itself was taking a giant exhale of relaxation.  The dog was chill, when our au pair came downstairs, she leisurely went into the sunroom to exercise.  I brewed a cup of coffee without having to watch over my shoulder, and it’s like for the first time in a long while, I felt like I could actually relax in my own home for a little bit, and it was of course, a really pleasant feeling.

And now that I’m back in the office four days a week, I’ve noticed that pretty much nobody does absolutely any work at all on Fridays, which doesn’t bother me one bit.  I haven’t had a Friday meeting in three weeks, and although I know that won’t always be the case, it’s been really nice not feeling tethered to my machine in preparation for a meeting.  That being said, it adds to the general and fairly sudden influx of going from stressful, hands-full high workload to suddenly relaxing calm on Friday.

I think in future Fridays, I may use the lax atmosphere to try and catch up with things around and outside the house that I simply can’t get to, because I’m pretty much always on kid-duty when I’m not in the office.  I got a chainsaw and a pressure washer for Christmas, and I haven’t been able to use either, and there’s a lot of shit outside that needs to be addressed that my landscapers won’t do unless I pay them moar, so it’s on me to try and do the other touchups around my property.  I’ve also got frames to hang, shit to clean and general housekeeping that I’d like to take care of, and I might start utilizing some of these kid-free Fridays to try and tackle things like this, because fuck, I don’t know how to actually relax, and always have to be accomplishing something.

Either way, it was a very surreal feeling when I got home from dropping the kids off, and I wonder if this is a small glimpse into the future.  And of course, there’s that emo-dad part of me that’s always melancholy and seeing every moment I’m away from my kids as a threatening sense of this is what it will be like when you’re empty nesting, no matter how much there are times in which I just want to turn off being on dad mode and just be by myself, staring at a wall and doing nothing.  But at the same time, I’m looking forward to future Fridays, because of the potential there might be for me to actually get some shit done at the house without having to worry about the kids.

In conclusion, WFH Fridays with the kids in school = a good thing!

Dad Brog (#117) – If I could bottle it, I’d be the richest person alive

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

As much as it might come off like all these dad brogs, and just my general tone of writing in a brog is that my life isn’t that great and that I’m always pissed off and miserable or something, that’s obviously not the case.  Sure, I have my share of days in which I think things could be better, but ask yourselves if you really feel that much differently than I do.  Perhaps it’s the Korean in me always having high expectations for everything and no matter how much I tell myself to temper them, I don’t, and then I get predictably disappointed when things aren’t like, A+ rating at the end of the day.

But really, my life isn’t miserable, because I definitely know that things could be so very far worse, and I am fortunate to be in the position where I am at, to where the bills can remain paid and my kids are well taken care of.  Sure, I don’t feel like I have a tremendous margin of error, and it probably doesn’t take a lot to derail things into stress-filled catastrophe, but for what it’s worth, I’m hanging in there, and if there’s anything at all, the time I’m writing this, I’m not in one of those dark-filled headspaces, where there’s a tone or an edge to the words that I will be writing.

Really though, this is just a tiny story, that if not just wanting to share, for my own documentation, so I can remember this moment as one of those moments in life that I will treasure until the day I die, and as long as my brain can remember it, it would be like a core memory that I’ll always go back to whenever I feel like I need it.

I came home from work, another day in the office.  For the better part of the calendar year, work hasn’t necessarily been difficult, but it has been busy, to the point where it feels like nobody on my team can really breathe, due to the sheer volume of tickets and requests we get.  I don’t really feel like I’m getting to do my real job function, which is to be creative, and am more just punching in and punching out production type of requests, and considering I’ve witnessed my current company have a turnover rate that’s probably six-times higher than my previous employer, it’s a little unnerving.

But anyway, I come home from work, I park my car.  Instead of going in right away, I usually take an extra two minutes to go get the mail from the mailbox because I’m the only one who does it, and if it doesn’t happen now, then it won’t happen.  I can already hear my kids screaming from inside the house, and despite being off-the-clock with my job-job, I’m preparing myself to get back to work with the job that really matters.

I go to the mailbox and retrieve the envelopes in the box; undoubtedly moar bills, moar spam, moar junk.  No sooner than when I look up, I see #1 running towards me, with #2 not far behind.  Both are barefoot, and both have the biggest smiles of joy on their faces.  I scoop up #1 into my left arm, and seconds later, pick #2 up into my right, and begin carrying them back into the house. 

The au pair is not far later, apologetic for letting the kids slip out the way they did, but it’s fine; they’re slippery little toddlers and this is the kind of things that little kids do.  Really though, it’s more than fine, it’s a genuinely perfect moment in life, and if could bottle the feelings of their happiness, my reaction, and the sheer feeling of love, joy and happiness experienced over the next minute, mass produce it and sell it to the public, I would undoubtedly become the richest person in the world, because such raw positivity is so lacking in the world in general, and I know people would be willing to shell out a mint to experience what I did that afternoon.

Seriously, my words aren’t really sufficiently describing just how perfect of a moment it was.  Although the memory will always remain with me, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to see it again, and all I can hope is that it organically happens again in future days in which I come home from work, although I’m sure the au pair will be on higher alert to make sure the door is locked lest they sneak out again.

But it made my heart burst with happiness, to the point where curmudgeonly old brogger me felt the absolute need to share it with the dark and cynical interwebs, because I want to remember it forever.  If I were in Neverland, this would be my happy thought to get me to be able to fly.  It was like a Nintendo 64-kid amount of happiness.

It was a moment that absolves any amount of darkness, unhappiness and pessimism I may have felt over the last indeterminate amount of time.  And reinforces that absolutely no matter what, the love for my kids trumps everything there is, and there really is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice for them.

I feel like I sacrifice more than an Ultimate Warrior promo

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

With a post title like this, one might think that this was going to be yet another whiny, my-life-is-difficult diatribe where it can be assumed that I’m in a foul mood of some sort.  The thing is, I’m actually not in a particularly bad mood or anything, but it is just something that’s been on my mind a lot lately, and I just felt like typing out some words to see if anything comes to fruition, as that’s something the brog has served for me occasionally throughout the literal decades.

But to get to the point, I feel as if the vast majority of my life these days is spent making sacrifices all the time.  I don’t drive my own car into work most of the time, because my car is the big safe dadmobile with the childrens’ seats already set up in them, and it’s left with my au pair so that she can drop off and pick up my children from pre-K.  I drive our third car, which has served me fine, but it is older, needs more care, and lacks some of the conveniences that my own car provides.

At home, I no longer have an office or a space of my own because of our choice to employ an au pair, which is no knock on them, as I still consider it one of the best decisions we made as parents, and one that I would easily recommend to other parents of young children.  But the point remains, when the house gets crowded, or I feel the want or need to just go somewhere in my own house to hide out and take a breath in, I don’t always have such a reprieve.  This was exacerbated numerous times over the last few weeks with several house guests, and I found myself in a position where I just wanted a little bit of privacy and couldn’t have it.

Most of the time however though, are the sacrifices of my time and general self I feel that I make, and I sometimes ponder if I’m doing it too much.  I basically have no hobbies left because I don’t have time for them because my weekdays are all spent working, parenting and then I have like 3-4 hours a night “off” which doesn’t account of the time it takes to clean up after the kids, reset the house, and prepare a litany of things for the following day, so I really have like two hours a night in which I’m truly free to be off and relax, but not without a clock over my head knowing that I have to sleep at a sensible time, so often times I don’t do anything that substantial or the things I want to commit meaningful time to because two hours a night just doesn’t cut it.

On our most recent “vacation” I sacrificed myself to ensure that our au pair could get to experience some things about Disney World, since it is important to me that she gets to actually live some semblance of life while here, and not just be a nanny to the kids, but what it results in is me taking kid duty and ultimately not getting to really do anything that I might want to do, not that I could think of anything I’d want to do in Disney World anymore these days.

The point is, I feel like I’m always in a state of constant sacrifice that I don’t really know where I’m generally at with my life anymore.  All I want is just a single day in which I can sleep in and not have to be the first one up, preparing breakfast, preparing everything, dealing with the girls’ cranky morning tantrums, and have some substantial time to myself.  It doesn’t sound like a lot, but I haven’t found myself in a position to be able to enjoy such considerations in quite some time, and I’m pretty sure the last time I was able to take some time off, was when I hopped on a plane to go to Texas to visit my brother.  But opportunities like that are few and far between, because I’m financially strapped because I’m always sacrificing everything I make to try to support a lifestyle that might be a little too extravagant for my personal preference.

I read a book not long ago about a half-Korean girl dealing with the passing of her mother to cancer.  Piggybacking off my prior post about crying, I think I was drawn to this book because I knew it was going to be a real tear-jerker and I was seeking out something to help burst my dams, but it was still a good read.  But one of the takeaways from the book, and I’m sure it was really meant to be sage wisdom passed down from a Korean mother to her daughter, but I feel like it could apply to a Korean man like me, was that far too often, there are people who give 100% of themselves to their families.  Such is not necessarily a bad thing, especially at the ages of my children, they need everything I can give to them, but her wisdom was to hold back 10% of one’s selves, and keep it for ourselves.

That stuck with me, because I feel like I’m currently living a life where I’m constantly giving 100% to my family, but in doing so, I’m completely devoid of having absolutely anything for myself.  Recently, I’m trying to look for ways to try and gain back any percentage of myself, and even if I succeed, I highly doubt that I’ll be able to get up to 10%.  I guess I’m just such a sacrifice-er, that if I can get to like 5% of myself back, that should be considered a win.

I tried to treat myself to a new pair of shoes; but like so many indulgences in the world, whenever I find something that I might like, it turns out to be what everyone else tends to like, and the specific shoes that I decided I want a pair of, apparently, they’re so hard to get a hold of, that when Foot Locker gets a new shipment of them in, they’re basically treated like an online queue lottery system that everyone has to fight over, and only the lucky ping lottery winners actually get an opportunity to get.  Seriously, I made it through the virtual queue in three minutes, but my size was apparently already sold out, and within ten minutes, they were sold out of all sizes, presumably because of re-sellers and StockX pirates just grabbing anything they can get their hands on.

So, so much for trying to get any semblance of any % back for myself in that regard, back to the drawing board.  But the bottom line is that I just need to stop sacrificing 100% of myself, and find little ways to keep semblances of me, for myself, otherwise I end up as, well, this.  An angsty, emotionally volatile, usually irritable and mad, deep-fried burnt out dad.

Dad Brog (#116): TW: Love You Forever

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I’m not a particularly tough guy.  I cry a lot more than any grown man should probably feel comfortable to admitting, and frankly there are times where I wish I could cry even more.  Sometimes, life feels a bit overwhelming and I think about how a tremendous cry session would feel refreshing and maybe help open the emotional gates and purge, allowing me to end up in a better place than which I started, and if/when it does not occur, I’m left feeling disappointed.

TL;DR, I’m a great big crybaby. 

It’s obvious where #2 gets it from.

That being said, there are triggers for me that I’ve managed to get used to, or have hardened up in the face of, where it’s harder for them to choke me up and get the waterworks to start up.  Songs, books, memories, photos, etc, being the sentimental sap that I often am, learning that I’m somewhat of a crybaby should be about as surprising as racial violence in Montgomery, Alabama.

However, there’s one thing that has recently found its way back into the picture that absolutely murders me, emotionally, and that is the book Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch.  My household has like 400 various books for our children, and some books end up on one of the various shelves around the house and don’t get read for a while, but eventually everything cycles in and out of rotation, and recently Love You Forever came back out of the shelves and into #1’s pile of books in her room.

Prior to the arrival of #1, mythical wife had gotten a copy of it, and reading it then was an impossible task, because I could barely get past the fifth page before I was a sobbing, emotional trainwreck.  After #1 was born, and I would spend hours reading to her, I couldn’t finish the book then either, and it was probably even worse, because I was truly learning what unconditional love was with my own offspring, and I probably broke down after the first instance of the song.

Just thinking about these memories alone has already gotten me teary, that’s how potent this book really is.

But it’s back out of the shelves now, and just a few days ago, I took another attempt at reading it, to my now-three-year old daughter, who is whip smart, has a vast vocabulary and is a gamut of emotions and opinions.  I made it past page five this time while managing to keep the hose from turning on, but by the time I got to the part where the mom was unable to finish the song from old age, I was done.  I started crying so hard, I couldn’t even read anymore.

#1’s got this shit-eating grin on her face, amused at seeing dada completely destroyed by a book, wondering why he’s not reading anymore, because he’s too choked up.

“Keep reading” she says, and I’m ugly cry laughing at how callous my daughter is. 

The last three pages are as difficult as the rules to Apocrypha to complete, and I break down again at the part where the child now grown, is singing the same song to his daughter, but I manage to finish the book.  She’s still laughing at me, and I’m laughing too while sobbing uncontrollably, because I love my kids forever.

But holy god, does this book really need to come with a trigger warning on the cover.  Parents shouldn’t be subject to this kind of emotional genocide from a children’s book.