The Father and His Son

Derod was a jitterbug when he discovered we were expecting our first child. Elated, but jittery. He won't say it but if you probe and probe enough, he would tell you he doesn't really know how to be a father, and most of all, about his fear of carrying a new born baby. A wobbly, fragile, head dangling (if you don't hold the neck properly) new born baby.

But he rose to the occasion effortlessly, and by Day three, was already doing this.


From then on, derod has been nothing but an amazing dad. In fact, he can do everything that I can do and look after gabe independently. Everything except cook his meals, cut his nails and hair. When I was stuck at home the last two months, he took gabe to church on his own, brought him to class, fed him lunch while out with the lunch kakis and took him home half a day later. He can bathe the fella, have his meal while feeding him, play with him, change him, put him to bed, basically exist independently with gabe, without me. I know of very few fathers who can, and who are willing to do that (kudos to you, you know who you are, dear friends).

So needless to say, derod has cultivated a certain bond with his boy. I've always been very proud to have derod as a husband, and now looking at him with his son, am so proud of him as a papa too.

In matching OP tees