A Dad’s Morning

My husband shared this story with me recently. I love it. He captures the kind of honest, real, little moment that makes life so special. I saved it, to share as part of Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out link up. Because, well, he just does.

My son is nearly three.

This is momentous for me, a father who grew up without his dad.

I always dreamed of sharing this special bond.

My son is finally reaching the age where we can “do” things.

We raised chickens in the basement. We jog together (well, I jog, he rides in the stroller). We stop at local baseball practices to watch the teams. We go to the barber.

We do all those countless other things that are typical adventures for a father and son.

But lately, I’ve realized we don’t need to “do” anything to bond.

Lately, I’ve been enthralled by the most simple moments in our routine.

Each day, at 6:15am, precisely 15 minutes before his toddler alarm clock (an owl that lights up green) goes off, the boy’s song begins.

“Daaa daa,  Daa da, Da da, Da da…”  Legato to staccato, as it were.

When that doesn’t work, he reacts as any reasonable toddler would, with a chorus of “Maaa ma, Maaa ma, Ma ma” echoing his prior cadence.

He informs us that he is not yet supposed to be up: “My owl’s eyes aren’t green. My owl’s eyes aren’t green.”

Yes, that’s right, son, we bought you that cursed owl so you wouldn’t get out of bed until it tells you it’s time.

It’s failing these days.

His mind is already two steps ahead of us.

Finally, at the appointed time, I rise, weaving my way through a frenzy of barking and wrestling dogs.

I attempt to quiet them with a grumpy, but groggy, shush, hoping they won’t wake the baby. But they always do.

I stumble down the hall and into my son’s room.

He’s waiting, a rumpled, mussed-haired boy in doggy pajamas.  The kind with feet.

From his bed, he looks up and smiles his welcome. “Hi Daddy. I missed you.”

It’s only been 11 hours since we last spoke.

But this is the kind of reunion that makes me feel like a hero in my own home.

He jumps into my arms, delivering a bear hug, like only a 30 pound boy can.

It’s complete and extends from his head to toes.

He seems to have grown taller overnight.

As I carry him down the dark hallway, I smell his unique scent—a little less baby and a little more boy with every passing day.

And I remember we don’t need to “do” anything to share our special bond.

For one brief moment, before heading out to the crazy, stressful world of my professional life, I am complete.

Husband Note: Don’t be fooled by the story of my son. I’m just as crazy about my little girl and will tell her story another day.

Mama Track Note: Pretty awesome, huh? I thought it was lovely. If you’d like to read more, his humorous Dadlogs Volume I and Volume II are both great. And he shared another heartfelt piece in a letter to me while I was pregnant with our second baby.