Tonight, instead of getting ahead of housework, finishing dishes, folding diapers, and making breakfast for tomorrow, I stopped.
I walked over to the stairs.
Climbed halfway up.
Stopped and sat. And listened.
Scott was reading Hunter his bedtime story. I heard how he enunciated each word and Hunter tried to keep up, repeating each phrase as fast as he could. I listened as he paused so Hunter could finish a few sentences and smiled when he picked right back up when Hunter said, ‘Daddy, can you say this one?’
Hunter ran to turn off the light and then ran back to hear Scott tell him a bedtime story. Tonight it was about poopy diapers and bounce houses and not being embarrassed when accidents happen (inspired by Scott accidentally dropping his plate at dinner in front of the whole dining hall).
Then Scott said, ‘Hunter, how much do I love you?’
‘Hunter, why do I love you?’
‘Cause I’m Hunter!’
The dishes were still waiting. Breakfast was half finished. A basket of clean laundry sat at the bottom of the stairs, still unfolded.
And Hunter knows that we love him. Period.
That’s exactly how our day should end.