Girls, Girls, Girls...

When we had these two little girls it struck me that I'd be forever smitten. What didn't occur to me was just how smitten I'd be. It's a painful, desperate kind of thing, you know, mixed with overwhelming joy and unrivaled pride and equal parts humility and just plain old regular awesomeness.

There could have been a million things that went wrong...bad first child influencing horrific second child...jealousy...indiscriminate violence...figure skating...but instead, and thank Jesus, Buddha, Malcolm X and Dick Vermeil, we got a brilliant (biased) and beautiful (c'mon, consensus) first child...a daughter, as I so desperately wished, and then a second, dare I say cuter than the first, daughter, as I hoped for, and now there is a figurative swimming pool of estrogen in my house and I get to backstroke in it all day, every day. Not that I wouldn't have loved a boy. Of course, I would have, but girls love their Dads (mostly) and I love these girls, and there isn't a goddamned figure skate in the house.

I win.