Today, I tripped over one of Colin’s toys on the way to the bathroom. I stumbled half way along the hall, yelling “Jesus Christ!” the whole time, before re-gaining my balance.

I have turned into my dad.

Let me briefly explain how my dad entered all rooms during my childhood:

Kevin and I are playing in the bedroom. We hear footsteps in the hall and then a set of wheels suddenly launched along the floor. Dad falls into the room like he’s just been thrown out of a car. "Jesus, Sean- I almost broke my neck out there!" "Where?" "Out there!", dad yells back while pointing wildly with his finger, like he’s talking about the entire, outside world. Dad then starts to catch his breath and calm down. He says he’s just glad it was him who tripped over the toy, rather a neighbor because a neighbor would have "sued us for everything we own". Finally, he reaches the point of his visit (after another minute or so on how easily some one could win our house in a lawsuit): "OK, any way Sean, your mom says you skipped math class again- we need to talk about this, buddy".