Tonight I entered my son’s room to give him a cup of water before bed. He was sitting on his pillow, looking at me, playing with his fingers. “Emmett, do you have a booger?” I asked.
“Yup,” he said.
So I took it from him. Literally removed the booger from his fingers with my fingers. I then immediately thought about parenthood, and how while everyone pictures cooing babies and first steps and joyful romps to Disney World, well, this gig is extraordinarily gross.
Human feces on my wrist? No biggie. Snot in my hair? Meh. Piss on my toes? Whoop dee damn doo. By now I’ve seen, felt, smelled it all. I’ve changed diapers in the nastiest truck stop bathrooms the world has ever seen. I’ve had my daughter coat my head and shoulders in milk-laced vomit.
Gross, gross, gross.
Fatherhood, fatherhood, fatherhood.
