My Father Names His Son
By now, you’re familiar with Ol’ Steve, my father. I love my dad. I’m definitely his son. I inherited his love of technology, his facial hair, and the sigh he lets out whenever he starts thinking about anything at all.
Ol’ Steve has many gifts. He can sing well, and anything he touches is magically fixed (note: I did NOT inherit THOSE gifts). However, there are some things that, like all of us, he just isn’t that great at.
In particular? Communication.
Go figure. He would spawn a slew of hyperactive boys who can’t stop running their mouths, but he himself doesn’t enjoy talking that much.
Nothing that surprising, really. He’s just reserved. That’s not ground breaking.
But one moment of poor communication stands out so much more than the rest.