God plays a cruel joke on the aging. As if giving man hair in all the wrong places wasn’t enough, He finds the natural progression of worsening eyesight to be something we as a people need to accept. I was already at a disadvantage wearing glasses around the age of 10.

But I need my eyesight more than ever as a dad. The kind like our annoying cat has at night. Or maybe I can invest in a pair of night goggles like they had in the movie Step Brothers.

Because I need to become a ninja when trying to navigate Baby Rangirl’s bedroom at night after putting her down to sleep.

You would not think a plush toy would make a noise if you accidentally stepped on it while trying to fade into the background. Well for a big donkey like myself, I’m kicking things more than stepping on them in the dark: that toy will end up square into the noisier set of blocks which topples over onto a plastic desk which blows up like dynamite because that’s what things do when you don’t own a pair of night goggles at the age of 33. What’s more interesting about the scenario? The kid wakes up at the sound of the closing door rather than the explosion.

And there she is, playing with the toy which will soon end up at the end of my foot being punted into the end zone that is known as my life.


Maybe I can take up ballet. Twinkle toes seem be ideal for a situation where the kid refuses to pack her toys away.