Low point

With all the problems in the world, let me focus on one that at this moment is near and dear to my heart. Tulip, dumbest dog on the planet, will not poop. I hate her. I hate her. Add to it that she will bark her head off at 1:00 AM, suddenly ready.

"Dan, Tulip's barking," Julie will say groggily while shaking me. And I will gently encourage her to cover her ears with pillows, because this cannot be what my life has become. You get the sense at various points that it's all building to something, that your hard work and your devotion is leading you toward some fate.

Caterer to the 15-pound imbecile dog who forgot how to shit is not my fate.

God, I'm gonna be a great dad.

***Update ('cause I know you want one)***
Tulip slept through the night. Now she is eating pleasantly. Perhaps I, um, overreacted. If I ever get this frustrated by my own kid, especially before she can talk, I will write about it in a pink fuzzy Hello Kitty diary with a lock on it so she'll never know.