v12-final1

Now, you’ll have to know this. When it comes to children, they
have two reactions to me. They either laugh and giggle, or they scream
and cry. Frankly, I think it’s the teeth. Let’s face it, I have huge teeth
and kids don’t understand much about the importance of oral care in
society. My first experience with Emily was a lot like you’d expect. She
cried. A lot.
Kim tried to comfort my distress at Emily’s reaction, but I understood.
She was moving into a new house a stone’s throw from my
apartment at the time, and it was a totally new environment for her.
Additionally, I was a totally new person. So after some discussion, we
decided I would have to come around more often.
In the following weeks, Emily became more accustomed to
seeing me. Her personality and energy was astounding, even at 18
months. It was at this point when I finally cut my parenting teeth, even
if she wasn’t my own. Initially, I decided it was only right for me to step
in when there was some inherent danger. As it turns out, babies get into
everything dangerous. And all the while, Emily does it with her blonde
curls bouncing and her big cheeks smiling. This makes it extremely
difficult to stay serious, let alone set boundaries.
Before long, she allowed me into her daily routine. She incessantly
asked me to pick her up. Emily often came into the kitchen and
announced “Mike cookeen” or go over to the cookbooks on the shelf and
point to the picture of a male chef and say “Mike!” Emily would ask for
my food or offer me hers. She would climb on me like I was a jungle-gym
or I would spin her. (Emily is a bit of an adrenaline junkie.) Even if it’s a
bit selfish, I loved to teach her words or work on the ones she almost had.
(I take full credit for turning “deps” into “steps.”)
Things were going smoothly, until I left for a six-week PTSD
program in New Jersey. While I was gone, Kim would show her
pictures of me, so she’d remember me. I was gone for nearly 30 days
before I was able to visit home again. The whole ride home, I worried
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