Mornings with Children | Day 7

DAY 7 

I think that little dolls probably scare pretty much everyone… so you’ll understand why I get shivers up my spine when my daughter (who pretty much resembles a 2 1/2 foot tall, walking Cabbage Patch Doll)  looks you dead in the eyes, right down into your soul and says, “Buh-bye”.  She doesn’t say it in a way that makes you think, “Hey, great!  See you in a few hours when I get home from work!”
She says it in a way, with a certain tone, with a certain… sense… a secret clarity of knowledge.  She says, “Buh-bye” but what it really sounds like is, “You have made a series of unfortunate decisions and now you’ll have the rest of eternity to contemplate them in the fiery pain that is your afterlife.  Good luck in the Bog of Death, the Hall of 1,000 Sufferings and The Abyss of Eternal Torment.  Today you meet your doom.  Buh-bye”.
I tap her on the head and say, “Uh… buh…buh-bye, baby.  Daddy… loves you.”  I drive slow and look both ways before crossing the street for the rest of my day / life.
Last night my son kicked me in the face.
Well… kicked is a harsh word.  He tapped his foot against my face, several times.  I ask, “What are you doing?” and he giggles.  I wonder what he actually is doing.  Is he just playing?  Is he hoping I tickle him?  Does he want me to pick him up and throw him onto the couch like I sometimes do?
He taps me on the cheek with his toes a few more times.  Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.  I say, “Arg!  What are you doing!” in a playful way and he laughs and giggles more.  Tap-Tap-Tap.  He giggles and then I giggle and then he bends down and gives me a kiss, totally unprovoked and my wife can’t help but go, “Oooooohhhhhh” and I know her estrogen levels have just hit an all time high.
My son leans back and tap-tap-taps me again a few times before bending down and giving me another kiss.  Now, I have to admit… it is pretty sweet of him.  He repeats it a third time; tap-tap-tap.  He leans down and I pucker my lips.  I love him so much – and he burps into my mouth and laughs.
Rory, you truly are your father’s son

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