It began as usual with getting my boy off to school. Then it was time to go get my daughter her 18-month physical and H1N1 shot. She handled both well and dazzled the pediatrician with her recitation of Daddy’s facial components with accompanying jabs where appropriate. We went back home where she napped and I discovered I’d ticked off some neighbors by describing this site http://www.paulstefanhome.org/ as “border-line cultish.” I’ll let both you readers be the judge. After smacking down an implied threat of legal action for my “intolerance” (Not cultish behavior at all! Nooooo!) I moved on to get my boy to his own H1N1 vaccination after the last bell. He was dragging a bit but insisted on getting his shot since there was a new Bakugan at the end of it.
He came through like a champ even though he was clearly no fan of the needle. Fatherly pride had been on the rise all day, elevated by his determination to polish off his homework before going to Tae Kwon Do practice. He did and we did although he was still dragging and starting to feel a bit warm.
Flash forward a few hours and I go to pick him up only to learn he has successfully passed his yellow-belt test while I was home waiting for an IKEA delivery. They didn’t show until about an hour ago BTW. My disappointment at having missed this milestone was more than offset by this absolute peak of Dad-Pride. I couldn’t shut up about it. Still can’t.
We get him home. Kids eat a bit then crash. My wife and I fire up the Mad Men season finale in which… well, I won’t spoil it but let’s say there were scenes that would kind of kill you dead if you’re a child of divorce and/or the parent of young children. This describes my wife and me so we’re sitting there kind of flattened with empathic pain even as we can’t look away.
Routine! Victory! Conflict! Pathos! Love and Pride!
This has been a subtle internal rocket ride of a day. I’m alive.
And now it’s time to roll out the sleeping bag on my son’s bedroom floor in case he wakes up needing to barf.
