Maybe I need to reflect on the very real possibility that I'm just a bit salty about this whole thing because, when I was playing sports in school, our wound care consisted of an old toolbox full of glorified duct tape, an ice machine that might have a few cubes but only if the Pepsi wasn't selling well that night, and no shortage of dads who would loiter around the bench laughing at your grotesquely swollen ankle telling you to "walk it off".
I love being a dad, but sometimes it would be nice to have some similar way to communicate my current state with my children at home.
My daughter recently returned from a week-long school trip. Leading up tho the trip, there was much discussion among her peers about whether they would be allowed to bring their phones on the bus.
As amazing as parenthood can be, I have been convinced for some time that our children conspire against us.