I realized that I have not told you guys how Little Toph has been doing ever since his Mom dropped him off on my doorstep. More importantly, I haven’t told you guys how I am doing ever since his Mom dropped him off at my doorstep. Life has been difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I love the little guy, but I often find myself forgetting about him. I’ll get home from work, strip down to my boxers, and watch TV. At around 8 or so he walks into our place looks at me and curses my name in Asian talk. “You forgot to pick me up from school, asshole,” he’ll say through his crooked smile. I’ll just come back with a, “get your own car,” or “steal a bike.” He flips me off and goes and starts dinner. The worst is when I forget about him on Friday. Usually, happy hour begins right after work. The same basic principle happens, except he doesn’t have a key to our apartment. So, there he sits, in front of the door till 2 am. When I stumble up to our place he’ll say something like, “Way to go, Dad”. “Who are you?” I’ll ask. He’s so crazy, he’ll tell me, “I’m your son, remember?” That’s right, I do have a son now. I forget these tiny details in my life. But, it’s getting really bad. I came home the other day and there was downing a bottle of liquor. Suddenly, Little Toph and I’s relationship has started to blossom. We’re going to the strip club next.
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