I looked out onto the Maple Avenue block party. I looked out onto the bouncy house and the face painting and the sidewalk chalk and the Talking Heads song “Once In A Lifetime” popped into my head.
“…you may find yourself in a beautiful house…with a beautiful wife…and you may ask yourself…well, how did I get here?”
Not in a “Boo hoo I used to go to punk shows and get tattoos and wore a fur coat un-ironically” kind of way. But more in a “Well, how did I get here” kind of way.
I hesitated on the curb. Was I able to jump in with both feet? Was I able to fully embrace my suburban dad-ness? I liked pretending I was a cool guy who just happened to have two kids. I wasn’t one of THESE people. Or was I?
Just then, Luca grabbed my hand and informed me there was a fire truck coming and we’d get to look inside and they’d shoot water at the kids. And I decided to not just jump in, but cannon ball into dad-ness.
I ran round with the boys. I talked to Dads. I talked to Moms. I double-fisted pink lemonade and painted both Luca’s face and the sidewalk he stood on. We looked into the fire truck.
I kissed Elijah’s boo boo and ate boy discarded pizza crusts and half hot dog after half hot dog.
It was glorious.
And if I was ever worried that my punk rock roots were gone forever, someone pooped in the bouncy house.