In our review by the stories of parents that our readers leave us, today we bring another beautiful story that talks about the experience of Daniel, César's dad. Daniel tells us everything that fatherhood has given him, such an incredible experience for making his dreams come true and what he never imagined, that he thanks his son for giving him his life.
We encourage parents who want to share their story with us as Daniel has done. You just have to send your story (between 5 and 8 paragraphs) to stories of [email protected] with one or two photos (min. 500 pixels wide) in which the father goes out with his son or children.
And arrived. A few centimeters of meat, some hair, many wrinkles and good lungs. Everything I dreamed came without knowing it, everything I needed without wanting it, everything for what life would give, without first thinking about it. And there it is, a piece of meat that looks me up and down. And now he laughs, and I melt; and now he cries, and I agonize. How many times I heard it from others, and how many I rejected those ideas as topical and popular. How much I laughed at it. No I do not. No, not to me. They won't tease me, I'll let them cry whatever they want but I'll get away with mine. No, they will never sleep in my bed. No, it won't change my life. No, not mine. Jerk, poor idiot, ignorant. There he is, he smiles at me again, and I smile back, and he laughs even more. Something simpler and that represents so much happiness? Do not know him.
A story is requested, and mine is no different from everyone else's. One day you raise it, and on the other, you are in a whirlwind almost dantesca of people who advise you, utensils hitherto unknown and who claim to be very practical, but that you do not see any use, many gifts of soft colors and lace, which you thought disappeared in the 19th century; and so, all of a sudden, your whole life is played on a card, a few inches of meat where all your fears and hopes reside. For that it has been worth your career, your parties, your work. Not at all. Mere entertainment until you're really born. His name is César. Because if. Because I love classical history. It has no more importance. His mother is Cristina. The best raw material where the best being can come from. Sometimes one wonders what he has done to deserve so much luck. I don't deserve it, I never asked for anything and yet I have it all. He was born calm, and his father, who doesn't know about nannies or children's songs, sang to Springsteen. I don't remember what that matron was called, but I have her calm voice and her know-how in mind. I wish she and people like her could attend all the mothers. He has five months. I don't know what the future holds; if he will be a good student or bad, if he will achieve job success or if he will have to try the taste of failure, if he will be lucky in love or if he will have health to live his life. I know nothing. But I know that his father will never lack him while one of the two lives. When things don't look good, I will remember these days and they will give me strength for anything. He laughs again. He writhes with laughter while pretending to throw a rag ball. And I thank you for giving me life.
