Daddy's Home!
OK, I have to tell you right away I got the idea from Cam's blogspot, dinnerwithdad.com. But it brought out too many memories to resist.
I can remember way back when I was a little girl and my mama called out, "Papa ist zu Hause!" (Daddy's home). Eric and I dropped what we were doing and rushed to the door. Papa, after a hard day at work, still had energy to give us rides on his big black shoes and pick us up for a swing around the kitchen.
The story at my house is a little different. First of all, the kids can hear the garage door going up when my husband comes home, so they are poised and laying in wait to ambush him before he even gets out of the car. As he approaches the door, Matthew, who is 6, leaps from the steps and greets his daddy with an exuberant tackle. As he's getting off the floor from this greeting, our middle son, Andrew, takes this opportunity to clamber onto Daddy's back. With 30 pounds on his back cutting off air to his lungs, and 55 pounds wrapped around his chest, he stumbles gamely on toward the door, only to be greeted at the top of the steps by Luke, our 16 month old.
As Luke frequently requests his dinner a little earlier than the rest of the family, he is usually covered in crumbs or somewhat sticky from his recent meal. Daddy's pant leg usually gets smeared with anything ranging from spaghetti to applesauce. I am waiting for my kiss, and then begins the delightful trip to the bathroom to get hands washed for dinner. Josh disappears into our bedroom to soak his trousers.
Josh tells me our dry cleaner stopped shaking his head in bewilderment at him after one afternoon when I picked up our clothes with all three kids with me.
I can remember way back when I was a little girl and my mama called out, "Papa ist zu Hause!" (Daddy's home). Eric and I dropped what we were doing and rushed to the door. Papa, after a hard day at work, still had energy to give us rides on his big black shoes and pick us up for a swing around the kitchen.
The story at my house is a little different. First of all, the kids can hear the garage door going up when my husband comes home, so they are poised and laying in wait to ambush him before he even gets out of the car. As he approaches the door, Matthew, who is 6, leaps from the steps and greets his daddy with an exuberant tackle. As he's getting off the floor from this greeting, our middle son, Andrew, takes this opportunity to clamber onto Daddy's back. With 30 pounds on his back cutting off air to his lungs, and 55 pounds wrapped around his chest, he stumbles gamely on toward the door, only to be greeted at the top of the steps by Luke, our 16 month old.
As Luke frequently requests his dinner a little earlier than the rest of the family, he is usually covered in crumbs or somewhat sticky from his recent meal. Daddy's pant leg usually gets smeared with anything ranging from spaghetti to applesauce. I am waiting for my kiss, and then begins the delightful trip to the bathroom to get hands washed for dinner. Josh disappears into our bedroom to soak his trousers.
Josh tells me our dry cleaner stopped shaking his head in bewilderment at him after one afternoon when I picked up our clothes with all three kids with me.
posted by Kirsten at 7:03 PM
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