After five years I still don't know what it means to be a father. I know I'm proud, but I don't know why. I know I care about him more than anything, but I don't know why. I know he is amazing, but again, I don't really know why. 

There is something very intangible about parental emotions. It's like emotional instinct takes control and compels me to provide unconditional love to this person. It's obvious that I am not in control of my own emotions when parenting, because if I was, I wouldn't care about someone who constantly screams in public. I couldn't stand someone who misses the toilet EVERY time he goes to the bathroom. I just wouldn't even tolerate someone who doesn't like mashed potatoes. So the fact that I not only tolerate these things from my son, but actually love him despite these things, proves that there is some other force at work. 

So, after five years I still don't know what it means to be a father, and that's okay. 

Happy Birthday, Cohen. I love you (or the robot inside my head tells me to.)