After working my 50th hour this week, with 8 more to come tomorrow, I imagined chaos and destruction were waiting on me when I got home.
Thanks to Ang spending the entire day at her parents helping her Dad do yard work, assisted by the Dalton equivalent of North Korea and Iran, the boys were calm, quiet, and composed.
Otherwise known as wore slap out.
Like most good things that happen in life, tonight's Hallmark moment came out of the blue around 8 p.m. while I was trying to eat my dinner in the midst of getting both the boys a snack.
Rakes: "Dad. I wanna wear my Red Sox hat. Like you."
Me: "Can I finish my dinner first, son?"
Rakes: "Dad. They are playing RIGHT NOW. I NEED my hat to help them."
Me: (While wondering if my obsessive/compulsive nature has passed down a generation) "You got it, Rakes."
Rakes: (After donning said hat) "OK, Dad. They'll win for sure now."
Thankfully, he fell asleep long before the end of the 6-3 loss and by the time morning rolls around he'll be back obsessing about Power Rangers, Indiana Jones, and why Darth Vader talks so funny.
But his Dad will remember how he laid his Sox cap carefully next to his bed so he could "put it on first thing in the morning. Just like you do, Dad."
Just when I'm ready to ship him off to Military School he goes and pulls a stunt like this.
On the 97th anniversary of his birth.
17 hours ago