I still remember the first time my now 14 year-old, Asia, told me she hated me. She’s the oldest of the kids and thus the first to break her father’s weak heart. We were “discussing” something, though I don’t recall what, but it’s safe to say that she didn’t agree with my rational on whatever was being discussed. The next thing I know- I’m hated. It was quite simply stated

“I hate you!”

That was a rough night for me internally. But my wife was right there to quickly remind me that she did warn me this would happen. And it won’t be the last time.

It wasn’t.

Last night was just another time one of my children didn’t like me. Not hated mind you. No, this time it was simply a “You’re not may favorite, Dad. Tonight.”

This came about as I was getting Jack (5) ready to read his nightly book… he wanted anyone but me to read it. Had he been our first (and not 4 of 5) I’d probably be offended. Alas, I wasn’t. I now had all of about seven minutes to myself… which I spend scooping cat poop. :/

In the end, I know they don’t hate me. I’m too cool for them to hate me (I tell myself this daily). It’s all about growing up, testing boundaries, finding said boundary edges, and then pushing on them. It’s how they we grow.

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A father of five and husband of one. This is my personal site. Cheers!

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