Aside from a constant clueless expression, “Dadness” is creeping into my life without me even noticing. I find myself hollering at the kids in the neighborhood for “Driving like a bunch of lunatics! This is a residential street!” I’ve also rejected any and all fashion sense. I looked down at my black socks and sandals over the weekend and thought, “Lookin’ good, Hamann.”
But over the last 3 months, I’ve had this overwhelming desire to fix things at the house. Which is strange, because it has absolutely nothing to do with raising Elijah. It must be some kind of dad gene that I inherited from Neanderthals who wanted to keep their caves in working order.
Saturday I was determined to clean out our gutters. As if clogged gutters would somehow damage my son, who was sleeping in his crib. I went to The Home Depot and rented a 24 foot ladder from a clerk who assumed I knew what I was doing from my sweat pants/super hero t-shirt combo.
It was only after climbing to the top of said ladder that I realized I was desperately afraid of ladders. I alternately cursed and prayed to the Higher Power while shaking like a leaf, two stories above the hard, hard Earth. Diana would come out of the house every once and a while to check on me and I’d weakly whisper, “Doin’ fine.”
Thankfully, the Illinois storms had cleaned most of the gutters for me and I was able to go back to yelling at neighborhood kids by the afternoon.
Today’s photo is of Gus McNulty, son of our friends Dan and Jen. He was born 4 days before our boy and looks like he could lift Elijah over his head with no problem. I’m afraid Eli inherited his father’s sinewy frame. Maybe he’ll follow my footsteps into marching band.
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