After making my parents a “delicious” and “exquisite” (Their words) meal last weekend (which the girls didn’t seem to enjoy much at all), I started thinking…why, I’m pretty good at this. Maybe I could make a blog about cooking. I could call it, “gourmet dad” and prove to parents that you can still put a nice meal on the table, even with a toddler and a preschooler shadowing you.
I could revolutionize the kitchen and teach parents how to cook with their kids! Naturally I would have to show off my own delectable dishes and accept fawning praise for my genius, my patient team-based cooking approach and innovative toddler hand wash and burn treatment techniques, but yes, by jingo, I could pull it off! I really had something here!
Then I made myself dinner tonight, and as I looked at dinner I realized, I’m not that guy. That guy exists, but I’m not him.
While I was making dinner, Abby and Kate were working on a puzzle. Well, Abby was working on a puzzle. Kate was grabbing any puzzle piece that wasn’t nailed down and flinging it across the room, while laughing maniacally.
“No Katie!” was the refrain I kept hearing.
Much to my surprise, Abby completed her puzzle with no help from me. I asked her to hold it up so I could take a picture of it. She, being three and one half years old, immediately obeyed her primary and most base instinct. She understood my goal and desire and worked against it, throwing herself into the pursuit of thwarting me.
Then her sister joined the cause. Or maybe she just wanted to cuddle. Her motives are less clear.
They’re in bed now. I stepped outside to throw the trash out, and the weather has turned. It’s cold, and I was glad to be back inside, in the warmth. I went to check on them and they were both breathing so loudly in their sleep. Not snoring, but breathing more loudly than they ought to have been able to, given their size. The sound of it rose in alternating waves, one exhaling as the other inhaled.
It took me several minutes to tear myself away, I wanted to stand there, over them, drinking them in. Now, though I’m tired, I don’t want to sleep. There’s too much to miss, in those drifting hours.
“Me, I’ll sit and write this lovesong
As I all too seldom do
Build a little fire at midnight,
It’s good to be back home with you.”
– Jethro Tull