Its me, Miles. I had lofty goals about being a world famous dad-blogger and quitting my day job and just, like, blogging all the time. Content is KING, they say. And to create my content I've taken the last 3 months and tried harder to be a dad than to be a dad blogger. Sorry about that. Reading about me being a dad is great, I assume. I mean, there you are reading this...you're riveted! How awesome is that? Its witty and self-referential. Descriptive. I'm killing it. Just good stuff all around. You are mesmerized with my word-smithy. I don't blame you for wanting to read more of my writing. So much crap on the internet is just pure garbage. Don't get me started about the click-bait. Its the worst! I'll just say that I have tried only to write about important stuff like pooping and peeing and leaving out unimportant stuff like how to get the government to pay off your mortgage. Who clicks on that? Really?
But what I am thinking about today is something I think about often.
"Is my baby ugly?" I ask. I don't think she's ugly. I think she's the most beautiful angel ever to grace this Earth, but I'm not an impartial judge. I just wonder sometimes if I am seeing things through baby-colored glasses. When we take her in public, like to downtown Mountain View, and walk around with her, people always say she's so cute and I have to hold her at a slight distance because I have the sneaking feeling that they want to steal her. So maybe she is the cutest baby in the world, as I have thought often to myself, but what do I know? I saw a baby on the Muni Bus in SF once and it had this crazy giant forehead, like Frankenstein big. I asked myself then, "Do those parents know how ugly their baby is?" I figured they didn't, because hey, it was their baby and that's what they're programmed to think, that its cute. It kind of looked like them too, so there's that. I don't know if my baby looks like me. You've seen me. I'm a grown-ass man with a full beard. If my baby looked like me I'd know she was ugly as hell. But she looks just like a tiny, soft, beautiful, smiling little baby. Nothing like me at all. Jeez, I hope she doesn't grow up and look like me. I'm a rugged bear of a man. Ever since she came along I've totally stopped really exercising. Its shameful, sure, but who has the time? I work, I come home and hang out with my wife and baby and then occasionally I write a blog about it. Nowhere in that lifestyle is there time for exercise. Sure, we'll go for walks around the park by our house, but that's not aerobic. When I look at my body, I see something pedestrian that has served its purpose, biologically speaking. It's procreated. So now what? I'm going to keep trying to look like some Adonis, for what? For you? I just stopped caring. I had three donuts the other day. I'm going full Homer Simpson, man. Just watch me!