Father's days

Watching my daughter walk can sometimes feel like a bigger miracle than birth; it’s her own miracle, her own doing. It took her long enough. Until her first steps, she was either lazy or impractical, apparently content to crawl while her contemporaries got up on their hind legs, and loomed over her like ogres. I judged her severely. I served her a report which read: “Distinctly below average.” But I also suspected she was covertly engaged in one of her inherited pastimes: sitting back, and watching.