Marc and Luke are on their way to Legoland as I write. My green tea in the cup, a snowy scape out the window, my cold fingers tapping the keys. I love that my husband took the day off to play with Lego (yes, that’s the plural of Lego – Luke would want you to know) with our son. I love that they’re rocking out to Owl City on the way there. I love that Luke made his daddy a card this morning saying how much he loves him, how awesome he is, how he’s “the best daddy ever,” surely as a response to his excitement. His gratefulness for the fun they’re about to have.
That’s all. I’m just more in love with my man right now. When he loves our kids well it endears me to him. Makes me glad I chose to hook up with him for the long haul. Makes me look in awe at our life together – what can happen when two people commit and work through their junk, over and over, make babies and do their best to feed and clothe and direct them. And cover them with smooches. And have lots of dance parties in the kitchen.
We certainly aren’t perfect parents; It ain’t all roses in our house. We have tempers, we get impatient, we have been known to criticize and make fun at the worst moments, we are selfish, we can be controlling, we forget to send in the permission slip for the engineering expo (wait, that was just me). We’re human. By our very nature we’re bound to mess up, and we oblige.
I’m not married to a storybook father.
But I’m married to a pretty damn good one.
Because he tries. Because he knows he’s flawed and doesn’t pretend otherwise, and he says he’s sorry. Because he wants to be a good father. And he takes his kid to Legoland.
It would have been easier to claim his work day. To be here with me, drinking coffee, trying to get his email down to 500, checking tasks off his eternal to-do list. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’s easier to chuck it all and spend the day building fortresses and robots with his 9-year-old son. I suppose it depends on the goal. I love that he chose the latter. That memories will be made today, burned on Luke’s brain of how much his dad loves him. That they’ll have inside jokes and probably a bigger-than-I-would-buy lego set to build together tomorrow.
Yep, I love that man. Yay for dads who try.
One Reply to “A Good One”
You know what they say, Jenea– a good man is hard to find. I’m so thankful God brought me my good man, and that He brought you yours. And, just so you know, your gratitude is infectious. I hadn’t stopped to think about how blessed I am in a while, and now I am overwhelmed with all I have been given.