Like Anthopology Beddin

parenting

Read curls into me, smiles, a smile guttural, a smile that makes me happy and good humor. Hold my nose, it must seem enormous, with their tiny hands, tiny fingernails with these little ones. Read

distinguish between their favorite toys teddy prefer that crazy squirrel in Ice Age (Ice Age) and only sleeps beside him.

When I get home, charge it for a while, if you sleep, because sleep read most of the day is very lazy, I look at it and little calm echadito like an angel. A cute little angel. My little angel (our little angel "of the three).

His mother, often leaving their parents' home when I come, not because you fall ill but in order to have time with Dooms. She is very well suited to our strange relationship, we do well, we feel good. But as much as you want to read, and more child Dooms, there is a little hole in my heart. Envy, because it is not mine, not my son.

Once, long ago I met a man, gay like me, who told me that happiness is never complete. Only be happy in heaven in the arms of God. I, who at 16 was half fought with God, and he denied being gay, for the sadness cause my parents told me that God was an asshole. Or it would have to be dead to be fully happy. Ta 'that asshole. So I thought, is not that time.

But as time goes on you see that things happen for a reason, perhaps what happened was more valued for my life, to see how important being a parent or child. Perhaps my inability to be a father may be due to a divine commission and not the wretch who caused my bad, sometimes you think about it, that brings a positive view more quietly.

But you know what? not true. The thorn is, and when I see Dooms Read arms or when my nephews were puffed up and climb to me, I can not keep my eyes get wet impotence and sadness, an impossible wish to fulfill.