Stealing Daddy

Today is the last day my husband gets to be 44 years old. As he was leaving for work this morning, I told him to enjoy his last day to be so young. I didn’t ask him to repeat his reply.

But, anyway, in honor of him, I thought I would share an old story from 2000, when four-year-old Elder still thought his Daddy was a pretty special guy…

The other day, the boys and I left the house before my husband. Younger and I actually walked out the door before Elder — which is usual.  The neighbors are most likely accustomed to my constant urging of Elder to hurry.  So, when I finished tucking Younger into his car seat to find Elder still on the front step, I wasn’t surprised — frustrated but not surprised.

I stalked around the front of the car and tried to shoo him towards his door.  Trying to keep one eye on me — preparing to run, if necessary — and one eye on the step — trying to prevent his downfall, so to speak, he gingerly lowered one foot to the ground, motioning to the door behind him.

“I locked it,” he told me. “I don’t want the bad guys to get Daddy.” He nodded once.  “That will keep the bad guys out.”  Then he cocked his blonde head to one side, considering, and added, “It’ll keep the good guys out, too.”

Only a few months ago, he believed the reason that we locked the door was to prevent strangers from watching our television while we were gone. Now, he thinks they want his Daddy.

He was probably closer to the truth the first time.

Happy Birthday to my husband!

And a Happy New Year to all of you!

 

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