"Daddy Lives Work!"
I’m writing this to you the day before Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. I wrote a little about Yom Kippur in my last blog post but something else happened this week for which I have to apologize before the “holiday”1 starts tonight.
You and I eat breakfast together almost every morning. I wake up, come out of the bedroom to shower and start getting ready for work, and you usually wake up just as I’m finishing getting dressed. Your eyes squint as they adjust to the light in the kitchen and you half-walk/half-stagger over to me. You look up and ask, “Daddy bowl hereal?” I smile and ask what you would like for breakfast. Your usual choices are cereal or the frozen mini pancakes that I can pop in the microwave, though sometimes you also have the option of French toast. You chose cereal on this particular morning, though, so you helped me pour the Honey Nut Cheerios into your bowl, we added the milk and I gave you two spoons.2 We sat down together at your little red table and started eating.
One of my favorite things about this time is that it gives us a chance to talk. I don’t get chances like this often; either you’re playing or I’m at work or we’re doing something that has to get done by a certain time so we end up focusing on other things. When it’s first thing in the morning, though, when it’s just you and me, I can ask you questions and get a glimpse into your unique perspective of the world around you. And, instead of having to read you your Miranda rights before getting information, you’re at the age where you can almost hold a real conversation.
We talked, that morning, about a number of things. You told me about preschool, about your teachers and the friends you’ve made. You reminded me that Mommy goes to the gym while you’re in school but that she “always comes back” to pick you up afterwards. Then, randomly, you said the name of our neighborhood. My eyebrows rose and I laughed, since I’d never heard you say it before. I asked you who lives in that neighborhood and you said, happily, “Eitan!” I laughed again and asked who else lives there. You replied, with a sheepish smile, “Mommy.” I smiled back and asked if anyone else lives there. You seemed to be thinking for a minute so I asked you where Daddy lives.
“Daddy lives work.”
I felt like the world had come to a screeching halt...
* After clicking around our site and emailing firstname.lastname@example.org for Father's Day discounts, please read the rest of Aaron Yavelberg's excellent posting at Sleeping On The Edge
** In the picture, above, Aaron deftly avoided actual modeling by lending his chiseled forearm to demonstrate the stylishness of the "Ellison" diaper bag (available now on this site and at Barneys.com) and the "Colton" Weekender bag (available on this website in June.)