Today, it was my turn again to pick Jesse up from school. I was running 15 minutes late and was still only on the way. And so I call the wife for a consult.
"Oh my God," the wife mocks me. "You're such a lousy father!" she said with an evil cackle. She was having a field day getting back at me.
Meanwhile, I was a little worried that my boy might start to panic when I didn't show up at 11:45 am. People say kids have this inner clock that tells them when their lousy fathers are late, which in turn launches them into a panic attack. But thankfully, Jesse was all happy and cheery when he saw me. But I figured I would explain myself anyway.
"Daddy was doing so much work," I explained. I further went on to assure him I did the best I could. He listened intently. "Daddy ran to the car like a crazy person and quickly drove here to pick Jesse up!"
He looked up at me, whimpered like a grateful little puppy and cradled my left arm, nesting his head upon it appreciatively. Then he smiled as he repeated after me, "Daddy ran like a crazy person to pick Jesse up". And with that little gesture I could truly feel the love.
My little boy loves me for just showing up. *sniff*