I was always a little awkward around dogs. With their slobber and farts and fur loss. Always jumping and licking. Always staring at you with those helpless eyes. What did they want from me? I could never tell.
Babymoon. It’s a thing. A brief respite from the chaos of work, hospital visits, nursery preparation, and the myriad other responsibilities of expecting parents. I’d been advised by
the internet friends to take a babymoon and enjoy one last hurrah before our life is forever changed come March.
We’ve all seen them. They don scratchy white cotton socks, khaki cargo shorts, some ill-fitting faded shirt, and tightly laced new balance sneakers. They’re white and squint when looking at their flip-phone. They’re called Lame Dads and they’re taking over America.
I’ve often wondered when this seemingly inevitable transition starts. Does it happen overnight? Or is it slow, steady, and without your realizing? Most importantly, can it be avoided?