And I want you to know that I’ll never, ever, ever love you any less in that case. Or be any less proud of you. You’re my boy. When you were born, it was like someone carbonated the air in my lungs. Like you blew bubbles into my blood through a straw. My entire life was about nothing but me for twenty-five years, but then your mother came along and then you came along and now I wake up in the middle of the night several times a week and have to check you’re both still breathing before I can get back to sleep. Can you grasp that? If I’d acted this way before I became someone’s dad, they would
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