Today's post will be a short one, as I just got back from a quick weekend trip to DC to listen to my dad deliver a speech to a museum full of important people that would have easily laughed themselves out of their chairs had they known a stay-at-home dad was in their midst. (And no, thankfully, my dad is not a politician. He's a homebuilder. Actually, he's the National Homebuilder of the Year due to his remarkably high-performing building techniques and his recent construction of a "zero-energy" house outside of Dallas. Not that I'm proud of him or anything.)
Anyway, on the Friday morning before I felt, as I was driving Kathryn and Camilo to school, Kathryn asked me in her timid (read: whiney) voice, "Daddy, how long are you going to be gone?"
I explained that I would only be gone for two nights (two nights! Just remembering it causes me to get a little weak in the knees) and that I'd be back in time to take her to school again Monday morning.
Kathryn is just a tiny bit attached to her dad and she replied with a very sad, almost teary, "Okay."
Silence followed. Impossibly, Camilo and the twins were even quiet, too, perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation in Kathryn's mind. So I lamely tried to make light of my little trip with a couple of dumb jokes. It didn't work.
"Dad?" Kathryn began, her whine approaching the upper register of human hearing.
"Can you be gone longer? Momma said we would have ice cream every day that you are gone."