My dad dropped off a box full of old photos of his side of the family yesterday. Man, there’s some awesome stuff in there. It’s weird, though, that it still hasn’t hit home that I have a son. For all intents and purposes, Emmett’s kind of sexless right now. I know that’ll change quickly, but as it stands, the vast majority of my child interactions take place with a funny, bright, opinionated, strong-willed girl. Emmett just wiggles around on my chest or in my arms, and the only time I think about him being a boy is when I’m trying to keep from being peed on during diaper changes.
I came across a picture in my dad’s box of treasures today that got me thinking more distinctly about having a boy in the house. Take a gander:
There’s nothing in this shot — save perhaps the slightly nancy shorts, and maybe the peonies — that doesn’t scream “GUY.” And the fact that this is my dad means that this is in me, somewhere. And also in Emmett, somewhere. So much to think about. It’s gonna be a wild ride.