A friend of mine asked me about family life and it got me to thinking. I mean, yeah, he was just making chit chat and all. But, you know, I’m an internalizer. So, where was I? Right. He asked me how family life was going. And the thought came unbidden, I am Ronin no more.
Claire’s growing up fast. As previously mentioned, she has her own room and everything now. I fear the day she becomes motivated to navigate the house of her own accord. She’s going to be into everything, man. Claire smash! Oh man, and I would be just the proudest dad ever if those were her first words. I wouldn’t even be mad about what she smashed. You’ve seen her, or at the least pictures of her. Just imagine her sitting over a pile of broken, smiling at me and shouting "Claire smash!"
For the time being, I am an enabler of her lack of motivation to crawl about. All she has to do is raise her arms and say "ahdada" and I pick her up. Then, she just points, or looks interested in a particular direction and I fly her over to rain down mayhem and chaos from the air. And, in that line, it is less looking interested and more like aquiring a target as she spends most days in search and destroy mode. Otherwise known as, baby play time.
But, you know, don’t you miss the freedom that you had before the baby? And you know what? Freedom? Nah, dude, I’m a knight in service of a Princess. Just point in the direction of the windmills and I’ll tilt. But, only if Bryan Adams is on the radio.
And it is comical. I don’t deny it. We’re more Don Quixote, than Camelot. Maybe, the Musketeers. Which I suppose makes Danielle Planchet or Sancho Panza. You know, the sane character in charge of all the logistics while the crazy people are off heroing. Or, possibly the minstrel singing of all Brave Sir Robin’s mighty defeats.
Anyroad. It’s an adventure, every day. Fighting the good fight while merrily raining down chaos and mayhem.