I am.

Well, I was.

I was such a dorfwang.

Lemme splain.

One night, my daughter was surrounded by her father and her brother who were doting on her – doing the darnedest trying to make their princess giggle – when I slowly walked into the room unnoticed.

I stood back for a moment and smiled.

I mean you hafta be inhuman to not smile at the sound of kids giggling; then it hit me.

the hurt. The pain.

I quickly walked out the room, still unnoticed, as the tears filled my eyes.

I was jealous of her. My two year old daughter.

I was a jealous dorfwang.

You see I grew up verbally and mentally abused. Yes, I have good memories; but I don’t have memories of my father or brother doting on me like that.

The pain sometimes outweighs the good.

A few tears fell; then reality hit.

What the hell am I doing? No pity party for this ninja.


Know what’s gonna happen?

I’m gonna fight like hell, to make sure my princess deserves what I never got. A father who adores the ground she walks on (well to a degree – I ain’t raising no brat); who reminds her daily how beautiful she is and a brother who will love and kind to her and always be there for her.

She deserves the world and I’m gonna make sure she gets it.