As a kid, my mouth was so pure that I blushed every time I heard Winnie the P–h’s last name. My lips were immaculate, raunch-free, pristine. That record has been broken all apart now. I just said … what I’d just said … to my baby girl, my little Firefly. And she heard it with both ears. And it broke her.
I’m sorry, little Firefly. I should have protected you from this. I’m your father. I should have done more to steer you away from everything that led you into this place. That was my job, and I didn’t do it right. But I will be here with you, Honey. Mom will be here, too. We will make it through this, and you will be incredible.
Another trampled morning. Another foul undressing of the scars parents carve into a child. What did they do to make her suck unbroken attention onto herself, and how does that wound ooze such caustic jealousy of our other kids? For her, attention-seeking is elemental. It’s reflexive. The whole thing is kind of nauseating. It’s pretty heartbreaking, actually, when I step back from it.
Sharing the real-life struggles of parenthood; searching for an honest, open faith; and savoring joy wherever it might be found