Whew! Matt just finished a world-wind tour of interviews- and we haven't seen him in over a week. He popped home once- at 1:30am, and took off for his next flight at 5am the next morning. The girls thought they were dreaming when he came in to kiss them goodnight.
We really miss him when he's away---- and it's not just that he's the only one that brushes Lucy's teeth the "right" way, or that he does the dishes after I cook, or that he reads a mean storytime- but we MISS him. When he comes through the door at night- he's a breath of fresh air- a purveyor of new jokes, a guy who is usually up for a game of "smell my feet and tickle me until I need a new diaper" right at the moment when I'm drooping, and waning and struggling to make it through the day. He's the yin to my yang, y'all.
This week was hard on the girls. My Lucy- who is usually so mild mannered and even tempered, took a Crayola twistable and drew all over the mirror of my 1890 burled walnut armoire. After ensuring that "no, I was not having a heart attack" I popped this little stinker in a time out. When we both recovered, I calmly asked her if there was something she wanted to say. She emphatically nodded her head and (expecting to hear a little "I'm sorry,") I leaned forward in anticipation to hear her whisper:
"I want my Daddy."
Well spoken little one. I do too.