It's great being a father. I spent most of the morning entertaining my baby. At this point, it isn't a complicated stand up act yet. All I do is make faces and say his name in rapid succession. Easy. Doesn't take much talent. What does take talent is helping him sleep. You know -- holding him in your arms as you sway to the rhythm of a song your humming. It takes the patience of a saint to keep on swaying and humming when you've been at it for an hour and your baby wakes each time you try to lay him down on his crib. Try doing it with a when your on the verge of a cold and your throat's as dry as the Gobi. Each hum would send tiny slivers of pain right smack in the middle of your throat. It isn't easy. But it's even more difficult to just stand there and do nothing while your baby's restless in his crib or he's crying his heart out because he can't figure out why he can't sleep. The patience of saints can only keep you going for so long. A father's love can keep you going, as long as you need to.

Lately, I've been twiddling my toes before I sleep. My dad used to do that a lot before he went to sleep. Twiddling my own toes reminds me of him, and how he used to take care of me as a child. Everytime I recall those times, I know in my heart that I will forever rue the fact that I never got to say "I love you" to him. So I pray to God almighty every night -- that He wake me when my child needs me, that He strengthen me when my arms grow weary from carrying him, that He grant me the courage to tell my son how much I love him.