From the first few nights in the hospital room I knew I had work to do. My wife was recuperating, my son was sleeping wrapped in his blankey, and I was the guy hired to greet the nurses that came into the room every half hour or so. I would get up at night when he cried or got the hiccups to allow my wife to keep sleeping. To this day his voice doesn’t bother me at all. Even now as a family of four, pretty much every morning I wake him up and get him out of bed, every day I play with him: attacking various unfortunate stuffed animals, and every night I pray with him. I’m intentional; I do all of this on purpose. I get tired too; I’m not always at 100% when he’s ready to run around chasing me with a foam sword. However, putting the effort in on a regular basis to be a good parent is not really something I debate. I am a parent, and this is what we need to do.

You with me?