It wasn’t long after we got on the road this morning that Miles started complaining that he needed a drink, despite knowing full-well that it’s impossible for me to just conjure juice out of thin air.
“There’s nothing for you to drink in here, buddy,” I said. Again. “All I have is coffee.”
“I want coffee,” Miles said, offering what I’m sure he thought was a compromise.
“I don’t think so, Miles,” I said.
“Yeah I do,” he replied. “I like coffee.”
If the kid wanted a sip of coffee, I wasn’t going to deny him. There were, however, a couple temporary challenges. “I’ll give you a sip,” I said, “but I can’t give it to you while I’m driving. It’s also way too hot right now.”
“It need to cool down?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But we can see if it’s cool enough once we get to school.”
I was a fool to think that might settle things for a few minutes, because Miles kept talking about coffee for the duration of the commute. As we finally pulled up to daycare, he said, “I’m gonna drink your coffee and then I’m gonna dress up like someone.”
“Who are you going to dress up like?” I asked.
“An old forty man,” he replied, clearly talking about me.
Seems there were burns to be had this morning even without drinking piping hot coffee.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 