What I like to tell my son on Sundays

This is what I told my son today.

1. May the Lord bless you and keep you everyday of your life, little buddy.

2. Oh Mother of God! (during a diaper change)

3. Don’t worry buddy. You’re gonna be 12 feet tall, 8,000 tons, and you won’t have to worry about being tackled cuz you’re gonna be a dinosaur on the football field. A real dinosaur! ROAR.

I’m working my way up to being this kind of dad. I’m getting there.

Look Ma, I’m in pictures!

I don’t mean to too my own horn (except I do), but I made it onto the third page of the Metro New York Synod’s Strategic Plan pamphlet. Alas, I didn’t make the poster, but I’ll take what I can get. I’m the guy who seems to be the only person in the entire room staring at his green voting card like it is the Eucharist. I take my voting seriously. Actually, in the picture, it looks like I’m not even holding up a card. And maybe I wasn’t. Maybe that is what I’m staring at – at how IRONIC I was by pretending to vote. Or else my card is exactly flush with the camera. No matter. I made the promotion materials and, in the end, that is all that counts.