As I write this, my daughter is almost exactly five-and-a-half days old. As a new father, I have had little time of late to do any writing, which is unfortunate, as I am an author of fiction, poetry, and now, apparently, entries upon the metaphorical papyrus of the blogosphere, entries which I would like to call “Notes from a Recent Paterfamilias,” a title which is admittedly as pretentious as anything upon the face of the earth except for possibly celebrity baby names (this is particularly funny, as my own daughter is named after a Jane Austen novel and an ancient Greek emperor; pretensions abound!). An earnest promise from the author at the very beginning: I will ardently attempt to tone down any and all pomposity.
Being a new dad makes it impossible to guess what the next Note from a Recent Paterfamilias might be about. It might be about how I used an Eero Aarnio puppy as a guard dog for my nursery. Or how, if I had the property, I would have an entire herd of Eero Aarnio puppies in my back yard. Or it might simply be comments and confessions on fatherhood. Or it might be an examination on how amazing the Brinca Dada “Emerson” dollhouse is. Or it might be about my new series of Pop Art Cupcakes. Or it might be about shooting Nerf golf balls at Mark Wahlberg, Steve Coogan, and Will Farrell for an entire afternoon on the set of The Other Guys. Or how glitter and confetti on a film set in Chinatown will stick around on the streets for literally months. Or my next post might be purely design oriented. Like I said, it’s hard to tell. Maybe I’ll let the nearly six-day-old pick a topic (although, admittedly, it is often difficult to discern what, precisely, it is that she’s talking about; personally, I like to think she’s rehearsing her acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine; heaven forbid it be the one for Literature; nobody in their right mind wants their child to end up as a writer).