Aletheia’s new favorite way to begin a sentence is “Well, actually…”
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Aletheia: Daddy, you’re going to die.
Me: Quite likely.
Aletheia: But I won’t be sad.
Me: No?
Aletheia: Because I’ll make you alive again.
(I know what she’s going as for Halloween this year.)
Aletheia: Trump is not good. We should put him in timeout.
Me: Why?
Aletheia: He’s not listening. He’s not telling a good story.
Aletheia: Daddy, how were your meetings today?
Me: They went well.
Aletheia: Did you have a lot of friends at your meetings?
Me: Actually, yes. Yes I did.
Aletheia: Daddy, why are you still up?
Me: Email.
Aletheia: But daddy, you need to go to bed. You need rest.
Me: I know, but sometimes daddy needs to get extra work done.
Aletheia: Well, you can do that tomorrow.
Me: …
Aletheia: Tomorrow is Thursday.
To myself: Goddammit.
Zach Galifianakis on Trump
“No. [having Trump on Between Two Ferns] doesn’t interest me. Doing it the other way doesn’t interest me. He’s the kind of guy who likes attention – bad attention or good attention. So you’re dealing with a psychosis there that’s a little weird. I wouldn’t have somebody on that’s so mentally challenged. I feel like I’d be taking advantage of him. And you can print that.”
Up late writing emails. You’d don’t get a win unless you play in the game. Oh you get love for it. You get hate for it…
I make one wise crack about making my child cry on Facebook and now I have to deal with a vomit-soaked three-year old in the middle of the night. Well played, karma. Well played.
Aletheia: Daddy, do you want me to be happy?
Me: Well, no, that’s asking a bit too much, dear. But I do want you to have a full life.
Aletheia: [Blank stare. Then tears.]
I probably shouldn’t consider existential questions when I’m around my daughter.
Every body[part] hurts
That feeling you get when you do yoga for the first time in a decade. I forgot I had muscles there.