You are blind. But I forgive you. I see your self-absorption. I will take them camping though I loathe picnic tables and marshmallows. I will accept their mediocrity and they will grow to hate me because they will never feel as though they deserve my love.
Charity is a crippling thing.
Nevertheless, you are my father. You are in me as is the bat. I forgive you because the alternatives are grief and anger and an even more miserable than average puberty. And his heavy lids are dragged open by his arching brows. His father could barely contain himself.