Since it was Father’s Day on Sunday, the boy spent a lot of time over the weekend asking me questions about my dad and about my dad’s dad. The boy asked me if my dad and my granddad were nice to me when I was a kid. I told the boy that my dad was awight and that my granddad was pretty good, but I purposefully kept my critiques of their parenting and grandparenting styles somewhat vague. The boy asked, “Did your dad like to spend time with you when you were little?” And I said, I dunno, I guess, at least maybe a little bit. And the boy asked, “Did your dad cook for you?” And I said, No, my mom did all of the cooking when I was growing up.
Then the boy asked, “What was your grandpa like?” And I said, He was a nice man, kinda like a big teddy bear. He used to dress up like Santa Claus during Christmas. And the boy said, “Your grandpa sounds nice.” And I said, He was.
The boy said, “I’m lucky that I have a dad and a daddy, and a birth father, too.” And I said, We’re lucky that you’re our son. And the boy said, “Well, I’m lucky to have a real dad like you and a real daddy like daddy.” And I said, You birth father is your real dad, too. And the boy said, “Yeah, but my real dad is the dad who cooks for me and takes care of me.” And I said, Yeah.