First, many thanks to the astute person who nominated me for "Hottest Daddy Blogger." (You might have noticed that "brag badge" I sneaked into the bottom of the left-hand column.) I have suffered for these riveting good looks, ever since the mayor's office decreed that, in order to reduce car accidents, I wear a bag over my head while crossing major intersections. It's been hard, placing the greater good over my comfort and dignity. This nomination helps relieve the sting.
And don't worry; I'm not dismayed that I have only 7 votes. After all, how can you take seriously a hottness contest in which Danny is in second place? Have you seen this man? He's a troll. Lives under a bridge and everything.
Second, I was re-reading my last post about running around ragged with the Dynamo Twins, and I hope I didn't give the impression that I'm not having fun. Because I am. It offers me the kind of mindless fun that is just too rare in most adult lives, and I couldn't be more grateful. The Daddybones do tend to take a physical pounding, though, and sometimes it's hard to sound upbeat when you can't move your arms to the keyboard without wincing.
It's the most pleasant type of exhaustion there is. And I suppose I should get used to it, because full-time boy-wrangling is going to factor prominently in the next few months of my life. I suppose at this point I can tell you that my job is in the type of profession that lets you take 10 weeks off--between, say, the middle of June and Labor Day--yet continues to send you paychecks twice a month. And since my wife is now a WOHM, I'll be taking another go at being a SAHD.
All of which will soon make me a Born-Again, Salaried, Stay-At-Home Dad Of Two, or BASSAHDOT. Not much of an acronym, I'll grant you, until you consider its anagram: HOT BADASS.