In the comments of a recent post, a dad blogger friend (Neal Call, at the awesome Raised By My Daughter. There’s cartoons!) wrote the following:
“Such an irritating truth: that I desperately await those unlikely moment of quiet in the day, and then once they arrive, all I can think about is small dead things.”
Hmm. Morbid much? And yet I know exactly what he means.
Since I’ve become a dad, all day I dream about death.