Don’t Call Me A Babysitter!
Can men actually look after their own children?
On May 11th 2003, I can still remember having a sleepless night leading up to the arrival of my first daughter, Lauryn.
Being the first birth I had attended, I found it awful. There is no fun watching someone you love suffer such agonising pain, particularly when my brave wife decided to go through the entire labour without the assistance of drugs.
Yet what a wonderful experience it has been since that day, watching a baby become a toddler and a child become a teenager. Before I know it she will likely be married, raising a family of her own and reminding me to put my teeth in before I come to her dining table to eat.
My youngest daughter was born four years later and offered different challenges and experiences. Possessing much more spark, spunk and attitude than our peaceful and annoyingly positive first born, Sarah has also grown into a mature young girl, despite being far more ‘creative’ in her use of electronic devices around bed time.
Our eldest cannot lie and is loyal to a fault, whereas the little one is gregarious, adventurous and effervescent, often to the point of poor decision making that sometimes causes pain. Despite their differing personalities, hobbies and learning styles, my feeling towards each are…
