Today started both early and late - Aidan came and woke up his mother (it took me a minute) and I last night at about 4:30 with his upper body covered in blood, he had another nosebleed in bed and apparently waited quite a while before coming to get help. I checked his bed and it was free of any marks, Aidan explained that he was protecting his bed by using his sleeve. Ah, child logic.
In any case, it was sad and scary and it kept me half-awake until about sunrise listening for more.
My wonderful wife let me sleep in this morning, since it's my day and all, even though she was up at 4:30am as well and did the majority of dealing with the mess. I snoozed. I came downstairs to an empty house, which is eerie. After 16 years of having kids there is nothing more unsettling than quiet where there shouldn't be any. I plodded around the house until mom and the boys came back with Starbucks and smiles.
We're heading our for a nice lunch to celebrate something I'd happily do anyway but I'm trying not to blow the free ride or the free steak.
I love being a dad, always have. Even when it wasn't exactly part of the plan and it meant tons of extra work and drama and horror stories and teenage angst - then when it was part of the plan and there was still tons of horror and drama and work. All that goes away as soon as you hear one of those little voices call you "Daddy" and you see how they look to you to protect them and teach them, how they just assume that Dad can fix everything from hurt knees and bicycles to hurt feelings and popped balloons.
I could go on and on and on but it's all going to cover the same ground - in a world full of things to be happy about and proud of there's just nothing that makes me more happy or proud than being a dad.
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