Sane, father Kazzy looks at Mayonnaise and thinks, “He’s starting to sleep through the night… that’s great! And his circumcision wasn’t botched… yes! And he has my face but Zazzy’s red hair… ehhhh. But he’s cute and I like kissing him and sometimes he tries to nurse on the end of my bulbous nose and I can’t think of anything I enjoy more than that I’m happy he’s here!”
Sane, teacher Kazzy looks at Mayonnaise and thinks, “He seems to be doing all the stuff babies should be doing, but what do I know? He’ll be fine… and if he isn’t fine-fine, we’ll love him regardless and make sure he gets what he needs.”
Crazy, father-teacher Kazzy looks at Mayonnaise and thinks, “He never smiles and sometimes just lays there staring blankly at the wall… he has autism! He cries if his swaddle isn’t done perfectly… he has sensory integration issues! He sleeps on his back and we don’t give him enough tummy time… he’s going to have fine motor issues! He squeaks like a mouse*… expressive language issues! He isn’t bothered by noise… receptive language issues!”
Thankfully, the first two parts usually tend to win out. But time will tell if being a teacher will interfere with being the sort of father I want to be. Or if being a father will interfere with being the sort of teacher I want to be. I do believe, if done right, both roles will make me better at the other. If done wrong… well… at least you all should get some entertaining posts about it…
* We actually find this quite endearing and have nicknamed him Squeaker as a result.