Some nights when I come home from work, my boys don't even know I'm there. They are so busy doing their "projects" or playing with each other or whatever, that I just don't exist.
And then there are days like last night. I walked in the door and I was attacked by two boys. They first demanded hugs and kisses. And then they wanted to play. Andy wanted to wrestle. Alex wanted to play darts.
The good thing about have two kids is that they are used to compromise and sharing. So, their idea is that we do both ... at the same time...
Not a good idea, I said.
So, instead we wrestled for awhile. This involves them jumping on me. Me flipping them around and throwing them on the ground and then it usually evolves into a big pillow fight.
When we were done (this is usually determined by the first crying fit or the first broken piece of furniture), we played darts. Now, Alex has to stand on a stool to be able to throw (and another stool to get the plastic darts out of the board), but I tell you the kid has aim. We tied 3-3 in our last matches. And I wasn't letting him win.
Guess he didn't get his dad's hand-eye coordination. Good for him.
I hope they never get tired of nights like that. And I hope there are more nights they welcome me home than there are those when they don't know me.
That's what we dads are all about ... hope...
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