An Acquired Taste

As I lay my son down for the night, I can't help but reflect on our trying path. I sometimes wonder if I'm what he needs, what anyone needs for that matter.

I'm moody and selfish; I want my needs considered first and quickly. It goes without saying fatherhood has been... an acquired taste.

Yet here we are lying together under our glow-in-the-dark stars. He inches over onto my shoulder and nestles his forehead against my temple. And I say those three mystical words, those words with so much potential but little genuine use.

I say them infrequently. I fear sometimes I may not utter them at all. So tonight I state them for his benefit. But as his eyes close, tears stream down, tickling then dropping from my earlobes. And I know full well who has gained from this relationship.