It's a big deal when Dad gets home. I mean, I definitely appreciate it the most, but my enthusiasm is dampened by a few different things:
1. I'm usually busy. I'm in the middle of making dinner, or cleaning up, or dealing with a sibling crisis (that last one is especially dampening, but also increases the amount of appreciation).
2. I'm often (especially the last 8 months) exhausted by that time. So even if I could bounce on over to him shouting, "You're home!" I'm too tired to do it. So he comes to me.
3. The biggest obstacle is the wall of admirers I'd have to barrel over. If they were other adult human beings, I'd be like George Costanza in a fiery apartment. But since they're kids, I try not to really hurt them. And then there's this:
1. I'm usually busy. I'm in the middle of making dinner, or cleaning up, or dealing with a sibling crisis (that last one is especially dampening, but also increases the amount of appreciation).
2. I'm often (especially the last 8 months) exhausted by that time. So even if I could bounce on over to him shouting, "You're home!" I'm too tired to do it. So he comes to me.
3. The biggest obstacle is the wall of admirers I'd have to barrel over. If they were other adult human beings, I'd be like George Costanza in a fiery apartment. But since they're kids, I try not to really hurt them. And then there's this:
Although his appreciation doesn't come even close to mine, his excitement outranks everyone else's combined. I've seen him sit at the door and wait for over half an hour before. And even if he's not a kid, he probably only weighs maybe 50 lbs. less than I do (well, not right NOW, but normally), and with all that weight so close to the ground, there's basically no point in shoving past him when he really has a goal in mind. That goal, every day from 4:45 to about 5:30 is "Dad." He makes me think of my grampy's dog, Pal. Only I don't intend to have his urn between me and Mike. Some things have got to give, ya know?
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