Tickets have been bought. Hotel rooms have been booked. Paperwork has been gotten into good order. Consular appointment has been made. Bags have been (mostly) packed. Arrangements to look after our house and our dogs are settled. In a short time, my wife and I will climb onto an airplane that will carry us around the world and, in a real sense, into parenthood. On the far side of the world, our little daughter awaits. Does she know what's about to happen? Does she understand that two people she's never seen before (well, we HAVE sent a photobook) will soon barge into her life and, with the best of intentions, carry her away from everything she has ever known?
And what will she find with us? With me? I worry.
I will teach her to ride a bicycle. Take her on walks. Read to her. Tuck her in at night. Scare away the monsters under the bed. Pick her up when she falls and kiss her boo-boos. Go to her tea parties. Put together her toys at Christmas*. Teach her to swim. Go to her school plays and soccer games (or swim meets or tumbling or dance recitals). Help her with her homework. Tell her that she's pretty. And smart. And special to me. Teach her how to drive a car. Tell her that she's better off without him, and that son of a b!tch had better not let me get my hands... Um... That is, that boys come and go, but that she'll eventually find the right one. I'll tell her that I'm proud of her. And that I love her.
I am going to be a father.
(*) I understand outsourcing and business economics, but would it REALLY break Santa to deliver the things already assembled??? I'm a chemist, not an engineer.