Bad Father, Good Daddy

George and I have been bachelors since the girls left for Texas early Saturday morning. We’ve had ups and downs, but today was a good day. I told Sally I was a good daddy but a bad father for taking George straight from Roxanne’s to Pizza Palazzo for a slice. When he was strapped into his seat, I said “George, do you want some pizza?” and he said “yeah yeah!” After dinner we were driving by Longfellow park (“Longsofellow,” as Francis calls it), and George made longing sounds. When I stopped the van and opened his door, he went crazy. He was giggling and kicking and saying “Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!!” For the next half hour, he displayed mastery of all playground equipment, despite having pooped his pants.

Though still incontinent, George is becoming very verbal lately. He has a larger vocabulary than you realize when Francis is around filling silences. He’s also stringing words together. When I was settling into a swing to watch him play this evening, he paused at the playset ramp and clearly said, “come on, Daddy!” Who could resist that? Last week, he handed me his bread and said emphatically, “need more butter.” I complied.