Having kids has been a really strange experience for me. I feel like, in so many ways, I’m watching myself in Max. And that makes me so scared for him. The things I’ve been through in my life have been crazy. I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. Yet I wouldn’t change them, because, as they say, those are the things that brought me here. But I’m really not looking forward to my son having to go through any of those things.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to try and keep him from most of the things that I’ve been through. But I know he’s going to get hurt. I look at him, and he’s so innocent. I don’t look forward to the first time he realizes that the world is not fair and he’s not the center of it. I dread having to pick him up after he’s lost something and have to tell him it will all be ok.
But I know that’s my job. I wouldn’t want him to get everything he wasted in life. I wouldn’t want him to be a jerk who thinks he’s the king of the world. I don’t want him to think the world owes him something. So, I guess that means he’ll have to fall on his face at some point. I just pray that I’m there to pick him up and dust him off when he does.
Sorry if this post was a little somber. Just the thoughts that came into my head, when I sat down to write.
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