On Saturday, twas my dad's birthday. He, like my mom, entered his 6th decade. I called him on Saturday to wish him a happy birthday and when I asked if he felt older, senior citizen-like, he said that he felt the same as the day before.
Yesterday, being the first day of a gargantuan 4 week period of off-trackedness, was a rough day. The boys fought all day, Quinn didn't have a legit nap, Wyatt tried to drown a kid at swimming lessons, Quinn for the first time in his life pooped in a store and Elliott was a generally whiny and crying disagreeable mess. And so on. And our dad was out of town. It was decided that we run some errands in the evening, which was a bad idea in and of itself because it gets dark so early now and the boy who cannot stay awake in the car (wyatt) coupled with the lack of lighting just kept falling asleep.
But, I digress.
In near tears I called my parents home at 5:45 from a parking lot. My dad answered. He was home alone, my mom was working late and doing a dinner thing with some friends from work. I told him that I was having a compete mental collapse and wondered if he'd had dinner. He hadn't. He offered to come and meet me, to drive out to my house to help me, but instead we drove to him. We arrived, the boys unwound, we debated over where to eat dinner and the five of us went out.
For chicken fingers.
I really, really love my dad. He is a good man, Charlie Brown. While I was waiting for our food, he had a talk with the monsters. They were really good today.
Thanks dad.
Happy Birthday.
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