The other day at an event at his school, The Boy called out to me, “Daddy—I mean, Dad...!”
posted by Fang Bastardson at 12:47 AM
Born in the wild to Canadian Timberwolves, Fang was wrestled from his mother's teat at an early age and placed in the custody of a government sponsored think tank in New York City. He escaped at age seven by gnawing off a doo-claw and has been riding a wave of self-righteous indignation to Nowheresville, baby, ever since. He is currently enjoying being a PhD (by marriage), but on the advice of his attorney has refused all comment except to assert an apparently deeply-held conviction that frozen strawberries should be thawed, not microwaved.
1 Comments:
Yes, but don't you think there are some wonderful aspects of "Dad" that you may not even realize yet? Then again, if he starts calling you, "Father" you may have problems.
12:14 PM
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