I got a call from a high school friend of mine yesterday…Since I’ve gone to college, we haven’t kept up with each other as nearly often as we should.  When he left a message on my voicemail telling me that he had news, I called as soon as I could.  “I’m going to be a father,” he said.  I could tell by the positive sound of his voice that I could respond to such a statement with girly squeals, and not an awkward silence that screams, “way to go, you knocked a girl up.” It was happy news.

But wasn’t it only yesterday that I was illegally drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade with this kid and sliding down the stairs on my butt at his mother’s house?  In a few years time, someone’s going to refer to him as “Daddy.”  And when that day comes, chances are I’ll still be resisting all things domestic, and I’ll look at that someone and go, “That ain’t your daddy. That’s the kid that split his pants during the school musical.”