Today your dad had sinus surgery. I spent the day at the hospital with him, then came home, got him settled and took you and Bean out to dinner and to the grocery store so we were out of Daddy’s hair. We had a great time at dinner- you had pancakes with sprinkles on them and then the three of us split a big hot fudge cookie sundae. Not one of our more nutritionally balanced meals, but it made us all happy and frankly there are nights when that counts for more then getting in veggies.
When we got home, your dad was sick. He was having a bad reaction to the anesthesia and running a fever of 104, with chills and vomiting thrown in for extra fun. And did I mention he was also bleeding from his nose- the nose he can’t breath out of because it’s packed with gauze?
So when you whined for one more book and were your usual slower-then-molasses-in-January self, I snapped at you and hurried you along. Then you asked me why I was mad at you all of a sudden.
Talk about making me feel like an asshole.
So, Bud, I’m sorry. You’re 4 now and you would have got it if I simply told you, “Dude, we gotta hurry because Daddy is sick and I have to take care of him” instead of getting exasperated and short with you. I should have taken the time to explain it to you. I should have told you “I love you” a few more times to make up for rushing through things.
Your mom, who hopes the only thing you remember from tonight is how awesome dinner with sprinkles & whipped cream can be.