When I became a father for the first time. I cried. It was a little embarrassing. I became known as the crying newsman at the hospital in the town where I worked.
When my next child was born, a line of nurses waited for me to cry. I didn’t then, for by that time I was used to the joy and the fun of being a Dad.
Through the years, my eyes had tears of joy as I watched my three sons grow and unfold with enthusiasm and become seekers of truths, theirs and the Universes.
In the dictionary, the word “Father” is between two appropriate words. “Fathead” and “Fathom.
I don’t know of any Father that hasn’t been a fathead once or twice in rearing children.
“Fathom,” as a noun, is a measure of length, the span of two arms outstretched. The beginning of a hug and a hug is perhaps the nicest gift a father can receive and give.
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