Busy daddy and I spent the morning at the gym working out with our trainers, while the boy played in the child care center. After our workouts, we headed into the city to attend a kiddie birthday party.
One of the pitfalls, er, benefits of being a dad is attending a slew of birthday parties that feature screaming kids hopped up on sugar products. Thankfully, today’s party was for a really nice boy and the party was a tightly structured 90-minute affair at a gym.
The kids spent the first half running around and bouncing on a trampoline while the parents watched and took photos. After the kids were sufficiently hyped up, they had pizza and cake. And then it was over, easy peasy.
We drove past the first apartment that I ever had in New York, and I told the boy that’s where I lived before he was born. The boy ask, “Who brought me home, you or daddy?” And I said, We both did. He asked, “How much did it cost to buy me?” Busy daddy said, “We didn’t buy you, we adopted you.” The boy said, “I know that! But how much did I cost?” We sort of skirted the answer, but I think soon the boy is going to request to have an audit of all of our adoption receipts. It’s a little scary.