I come home from work every evening, always in time for dinner with my wife and daughter. Sometimes after a long day, sometimes in the middle of a day that has yet to run it's course. Come rain or shine, whether I bound in energetically or drag myself over the doorstep, I'm greeted by the sound of running footsteps, a huge grin and a squeal of "Daddy came home!" Well, the verbal part has evolved - nowadays it's more like "Look, there's daddy but it's dark in the garage so we better switch on the light so the cars can see properly!"
There's nothing I love more in my life than being a father to my daughter. And the simple fact of the matter is that I'm opinionated. Especially when it comes to the art of parenting. Even though I get a lot wrong, I get a lot right. Or so I think. Ego therefore mandates that I share my opinions with the world, regardless of whether anyone reads them.
Many will disagree, some may actually agree. Heck, one or two may agree with me regularly. To each his (or her) own.
Let's see how long I can keep this up.
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