Tony Woodlief | Author

Fatherhood

Smitten

I have just come home, and Eli runs up to me. “Dad, I left you a Boxcar Children book on your nightstand. It’s your Easter present.” “Thank you,” I say. He turns back toward where he has been playing. “Eli,” I say. “Where’s my hug?” He smiles, and walks back in my direction, slowly now. …

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We need more parents

“The truth is that only men to whom the family is sacred will ever have a standard or a status by which to criticise the state. They alone can appeal to something more holy than the gods of the city; the gods of the hearth.”  (G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man)

Welcome home

When he hears the jingle of my keys as I come into the house, Isaiah drops whatever he is doing and comes thumping along on his stubby feet, half crying and half laughing his name for me, which is “Daa.” I pick him up, he wraps his short arms around my neck, rests his head …

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Not Sorry

Last night the boys and I played a rollicking game of Sorry. It went something like this: “ONE!TWO!THREE!FOUR!ELEVEN!NINE!…” “Isaac, slow down. Count one for each square.” “Okay Dad. ONE(whack)TWO(whack)THREE(whack)…” “He’s shaking my pieces off the board!” “Gently, Isaac.” “Okay.” (whispering) “one(tap)two(tap)three(tap)…” “Your turn, Eli. “Eli… ” “Eli?” “Elijah!” “Oh.” The boy draws a Sorry card. …

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Whatchamacallits

The thing about boys who call their thingies by the clinical name is that it’s creepy. This is why my sons call it a wiener, to Wife’s utter mortification. She defers to me nonetheless, as the resident expert on all things wiener-related. The problem is that, as some of you may know, there is more …

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