Proud Father V0 13 0 Easter Westy Apr 2026

He nodded, satisfied, and ran off to find the next egg. Here’s the thing about West Yorkshire on Easter morning. It’s not picturesque. It’s not a chocolate box. The hills are moody. The sky is a pewter lid. But there’s a particular light—a stubborn, hopeful light—that breaks through around 8 AM. It hits the damp pavement and makes everything glisten.

“The bunny came,” Theo repeated, more urgently this time. He held up the Peep like a holy relic.

“Daddy. The bunny came.”

Outside, the light was fading into a cold, clear evening. Somewhere a blackbird sang—a late song, almost surprised at itself.

But because I was finally, fully, present for the thing that mattered. proud father v0 13 0 easter westy

Just a man who keeps showing up for the updates. Next release: Summer solstice. Expected features: first skinned knee, successful ice cream cone retrieval, and the continued, astonishing business of watching a person bloom.

Easter Sunday, West Yorkshire – 6:47 AM He nodded, satisfied, and ran off to find the next egg

I sat up. I looked at him—pajama shirt inside out, one sock missing, orange sugar dust on his chin. “Yeah, bud,” I said. “You’re the kindest.”

That note read: “Theo – You are growing so kind. Keep sharing. Love, EB.” It’s not a chocolate box

I didn’t blame him. Men of his generation weren’t given the update. They shipped with bugs we’re still debugging.

By 8:15, we were outside. Theo in his wellies. Me in last night’s hoodie. We walked to the little park at the end of the street, the one with the wonky roundabout and the bench dedicated to someone’s gran. Theo had a small basket with three eggs left (the rest already eaten or lost in the couch cushions).