You were the dad who stayed up all night on the other side of the curtain upstairs from the hospital emergency room while my wife and I comforted our injured son. We could hear your infant daughter's colicky screams every five minutes and your soothing voice as you cradled her in your arms and fed her the bottle. We didn't see your face until the following afternoon, when your wife arrived to help out: a big bright smile underneath a shaved head and a swirl of gang tattoos. You laughingly apologized for the all-night noise, making us almost embarrassed to remember how ill-humored we were when our son was your daughter's age and kept us awake. I don't care if you're a hardcore gangster or a reformed OG, but you're off to a great start as a father.
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