Poop
As it stands, a lot of new parenting revolves around poop. You monitor it’s frequency, celebrate it at the begining as developmental milestones, and watch it transform from what I liken to black tar, to a more cajun mustard type of look that we’re getting into now. Bizarre, huh?
By the way, I apologize in advance to anyone I have to interact with after my “paternity leave” is over. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be talking in a sing-songy voice, and referring to myself as Daddy. After a while you stop noticing you’re doing it, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna slip up, probably talking to a client.