A few months ago, after Heather left for work, I was packing my bag for work and Madeline ran in from the playroom. She had her big frilly pink skirt on–the one her great-grandmother gave her which plays music, though the batteries have suspiciously disappeared–and she immediately started dancing around the kitchen in delirious circles. We play music in the house as we’re getting ready to go, and she was into it.

Now, this was before Zach was born, so we weren’t yet locked into the military regimen that is demanded in order to keep the rest of the family on any kind of schedule while meeting the needs of a vomiting, screaming mess. But I’d still prefer not to be late, and I’d prefer that Maddie not miss her breakfast at school, which is usually cheese toast or waffles.

So I opened my mouth to say “Let’s take the skirt off and go to school”.¹ And then I immediately stopped myself.

I felt like such an asshole in that moment.² The girl just wants to dance!

My daughter is only two and a half years old, but one day soon, she’ll be my age. And I won’t have her in my kitchen asking me to dance with her. She’ll be out having her own experiences in the same way that I am now. It is my sincere hope, like that of most parents, that she’ll come visit, and we can crank up whatever Trans-Bionic Music Pods we’re using in 2037 together. But that is not guaranteed, nor is it necessary. What’s necessary is that I experience and enjoy it here. Now.

Before he died, Carl Sagan said of his wife:

In the vastness of space and the immensity of time, it is my joy to share a planet and an epoch with Annie.

I feel the same joy. With my wife, Heather, and, more and more³, with my kids. And, I might add, with most of you. I’m starting up my blog again because sharing the world with my friends and family is pretty awesome. The overwhelming evidence tells us that this is the only life we get, a beautiful limitation that I believe mandates we make damned sure we’re doing awesome things in the time we’re allotted.

In the vastness of space and the immensity of time, I get to share a planet and an epoch, and, for the blink of an eye, a home, with my daughter.

We danced for ten minutes.

 

1. Why do parents always delude ourselves, without a shred of evidence for its efficacy, into thinking that the first person plural is going to be more convincing? [↩]
2. Parenting will make you feel like an asshole from time to time, if you’re doing it right. [↩]
3. Would you believe the little fuckers actually develop personalities? Unbelievable. [↩]