Chris woke up early, let the dogs out, let them back in, fed them and made the kids lunches. That was after putting on his uniform of the software industry, jeans and a decent shirt, preferably no visible stains. His hair had the look of what his youngest termed a wave crashing on a beach that was held stiffly in place with dollar store mousse. He continued his morning routine of turning on the lights in the kids rooms, greeting them with far too much chipperness, according to his older daughter, and making his own lunch.
Probably ten minutes after this process began, he heard footsteps and the youngest came hopping down the steps with her usual vigor. She still watches Odd Squad or whatever is currently playing at the 6:30am time slot on PBS so she likes to get downstairs to eat her cereal or if she's lucky, he makes her pancakes or waffles. And my makes, I mean he puts them in the toaster, butters them, and delivers them to the table. At this point, he his work is pretty much done with this one. A few squeezes and hugs and the telling of I love you, are nearly always the very last thing before he heads out into the car to drive away.
During all of this routine, his teenager, whom is ready to be done with eight grade and launch herself into high school or even out of school if she could, makes whisper like appearance from her bedroom to the bathroom. He stands at the doorway to the garage and lobs a hello in her direction which bounces off her hair that acts as a shield to her face and deflecting parental sounds to her ears.
In a moment of frustration or sadness he yells upstairs, "I'm glad I got to see you for a few seconds today!" She peeks out at him for a moment, sort of stunned as to why she's catching flack from her Dad on what to her seemed like a normal morning. Nothing is said though, and he gets in his car and starts the drive into the office. Why did he say that he wonders?
About five minutes into the drive he sends her a text. "Sorry for my attitude this morning. I love you. I hope you have a good day. I just miss hanging out with you."
"It's fine. I love you too."
That made him feel better.
Later that afternoon, he calls his old man on the way home and shares some of what had transpired that morning.
"It's funny Dad, she's doing great, she has a passion that she follows and a strong head on her shoulders. I guess it feels like she doesn't really need me."
He laughs, "that means you are doing it right."
Probably ten minutes after this process began, he heard footsteps and the youngest came hopping down the steps with her usual vigor. She still watches Odd Squad or whatever is currently playing at the 6:30am time slot on PBS so she likes to get downstairs to eat her cereal or if she's lucky, he makes her pancakes or waffles. And my makes, I mean he puts them in the toaster, butters them, and delivers them to the table. At this point, he his work is pretty much done with this one. A few squeezes and hugs and the telling of I love you, are nearly always the very last thing before he heads out into the car to drive away.
During all of this routine, his teenager, whom is ready to be done with eight grade and launch herself into high school or even out of school if she could, makes whisper like appearance from her bedroom to the bathroom. He stands at the doorway to the garage and lobs a hello in her direction which bounces off her hair that acts as a shield to her face and deflecting parental sounds to her ears.
In a moment of frustration or sadness he yells upstairs, "I'm glad I got to see you for a few seconds today!" She peeks out at him for a moment, sort of stunned as to why she's catching flack from her Dad on what to her seemed like a normal morning. Nothing is said though, and he gets in his car and starts the drive into the office. Why did he say that he wonders?
About five minutes into the drive he sends her a text. "Sorry for my attitude this morning. I love you. I hope you have a good day. I just miss hanging out with you."
"It's fine. I love you too."
That made him feel better.
Later that afternoon, he calls his old man on the way home and shares some of what had transpired that morning.
"It's funny Dad, she's doing great, she has a passion that she follows and a strong head on her shoulders. I guess it feels like she doesn't really need me."
He laughs, "that means you are doing it right."
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