I can typically be found escorting our two Taiwanese Mountain Dogs (Agatha: black; Bao Bao: brown) around the neighborhood at about 8:30 every weekday morning, with Eliot strapped snugly to my chest.
There's a Whole Foods on the walk, and, today, when I rounded the corner leading up to it an unencumbered, faster-moving dude came alongside to pass our slower-moving pack.
"Looks like you've got the whole family there," he said briskly.
I get this a lot, so I shot back my canned response: "Gotta let the wife sleep."
He chuckled then came in a little closer.
"Yeah, I've got two. You know, a lot of guys don't really know what their wives go through."
As he said this, he scanned my face forensically, searching for the stigmata that would reveal my membership in the Brotherhood of Engaged Fathers.
Our eyes met and we knew instantly.