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When Only Daddy'll Do

I was wondering if my son might’ve been confused as to whom had given him birth.  Without drugs.  On a Friday morning three and half years ago.  He had to have been.  

Well…

nah…he had to have been.

Confused, that is.  About his birth and all.

We’d gotten home just minutes before my sister-in-law had swung by to drop off both kids.  And I was riding the high of the stellar report, when I’d grabbed my son from behind while he snooped for his train blanket still packed away in his bag.  But without enthusiam, though it’d been 32 hours since we’d even been in the same room, he uttered, “I missed my daddy.”

And then he said it again.  “I missed my daddy.”

Which is great. And which warms my heart.  But which threw a big enough kink in my sail, that I couldn’t even remember him having a dad.  Though his dad was 16 feet away unloading the van.

And…nevermind that I’d nearly wept at dinner last night when two kids the same genders as mine and nearly the same spread in ages sat behind us.  Or that this little boy clumped his way to the table in his boots the way mine might’ve.  And that the little girl held his hand as they left. 

No…definitely nevermind.  That was sweet…but that’s not this.

My small son who’d missed his daddy and who was now in my arms, grabbed my cheeks with both hands and leaned his forehead against mine.  “You know what mommy?” he whispered.  And I did, but I waited a second before saying, “no, what?”  And he whispered again, “I love you.” 

And that’s when I squeezed him and loved him back and when he skittered out of my arms to find his dad.

After all…he’d missed him.

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  1. Sarah says:

    Ummmmmm yes, this is the case with all boys I think. After a full summer home with Dad there has been a bit of a battle in this house. Your not daddy. I want my Dad. I think that is my friend daddy I hear. Just some of my common days phrases.

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