Daddy Daydreamer

Dreams of a stay-at-home dad

At times I wonder if I made the right decision. Then a pot of potatoes boils over or a grilled cheese starts to burn

Dad and and son sleeping

This essay originally appeared in The Globe and Mail on March 3, 2014.

The year was 1978. I was 4. The morning light muffled its way through my pale bedroom curtains and turned an opaque blue. My mother was lying beside me, smiling, the skin of her face so smooth.

I looked up at her and felt at ease, at home with the one who loved me . . .

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November 12, 2015