Bad Dads Make Bad Husbands
The other day, I was left home alone with my two kids. For a few hours I tasted the life of a single parent.
It didn’t work out.
As soon as my wife walked in the door, I put down the baby and picked up the bourbon. I won’t lie: I was drinking to forget — to forget the stress, the scrambling, and the screaming. I had spent a few measly hours managing my kids all by myself, and it was enough to rededicate me to my marriage for another 10 years.
At least.