THE REAL QUESTION OF PARENTHOOD: This needs to be an essay at some point, but perhaps I can just write it down, explore it here for a moment, so as not to lose it.

When our son was born, people often said something to us along the lines of, "Did you ever know you could love someone or something so much?"

And I always felt like, "Yes, I knew. I love him like I love my family, my wife, and even my dog." (I know this is controversial, saying that I love my son like my dog, but that's how it is. Sure, it may be a matter of degrees, but love is love.)

Lately I've been thinking the better question for me is, "Can you believe your parents ever loved you this much?" Because as I spend time with my son, as I stare at him sleeping, give him a bath, strap him into his car-seat while he plays with my keys, kick the ball to him, hear him yell out "Dot!" when the dog comes near him, watch him shovel sticky waffles into his mouth...I love him without any judgement, recklessly. It doesn't matter how he's dressed, if he ever gets a job, how his hair is styled or not styled, if he pronounces words correctly. I simply love him no matter what. And, as I sit with him, there's no doubt my parents loved me like this, too; that, in fact, they must still love me like this. You just can't help it.

But, over the years, it gets harder to see. Most of us are lucky enough to know our parents love us. But to have my own child, well, now I can actually feel what they must have felt, feel what they must feel. So the question I return to is "Can my parents really love me this much? I guess so. Wow.

But then there's no way I was ever as loveable as my son is right now, is there? I'll never believe it.