Raising a glass for Cohen

I'll be exiting the Port of Vancouver on Sunday afternoon, sometime around four o'clock, for the very last time in 2010. Nine hour workdays inside of grain elevators and the camaraderie of one hundred plus co-workers is going to be replaced by one tiny little, mostly speechless, baby boy. It's funny how insignificant my workday and all of its happenings is in comparison to my future with Cohen. Sample analysis at a laboratory bench versus attempting to feed a young boy who finds very little reason to eat as he stares up at me, his entire face articulating his happiness and excitement for something so simple as my presence in his field of view. Is there really a choice to be made? I understand I'll be changing diapers, cleaning up drool and spit-up, and adhering to a fairly strict napping schedule. For each nappie, for each dash of formula left on my clothes, my face, or our dog (who seems to wait patiently for just such a treat), and each project or outing dropped abruptly for a sleepy boy - I know that I'll benefit from his animated chatter, his ever improving motor skills, and his frequent smiles. Of course I am nervous; dropping the workload I've had for the last five years and replacing it with a three month old is definitely scary and foreign to me. I am optimistic that this time will be as rewarding for him as I know it will be for me. On Sunday, after work, after running 10k, and after washing the car, I'll relax in the company of my wife, dog, and son, crack open an Anarchist Ale (thanks, Bruce) and this paragraph will be the toast in my head.