I Made some serious cash today, but I ache inside when his sensitive little soul hurts.
PresRels are my friends. I cuddled my son while I worked all morning long. My laptop perched on the coffee table, I leaned over and
tip-tap-typed away while the
tadpole wandered around, passing between me and the
coffee table with his
Hot Wheels. Every so often, he would ask, "Press button, dad?" I told him not to press the
F9 key (the one he wanted to press), because I didn't know what it did in MS
Word, and he did anyway. I spoke sternly to him, and he ran back to his mom. He looked at me and his eyes began to shine, and then he burst into tears. I picked him up and held him tight, and he
sobbed.
Feeling like the world's biggest asshole, I let him press the button again a few times, since it didn't do anything anyway.