Rest can be a relative term, especially when taking the day off means hanging out at home with my Martha....
Monday was a great day.
I’m not talking about the weather, although that was certainly a nice touch.
The reason it was such a good day for me was because I was able to stay home and enjoy 24 extra hours of rest.
Then again, rest can be a relative term, especially when taking the day off means hanging out at home with my Martha.
After hearing the alarm go off signaling my best half to get the kids up for school, a smile crossed my face. I knew in that moment there was absolutely nothing I had to do.
If I wanted to, I thought, I could sleep all day.
Then I remembered there was no way that was going to happen, because Martha would not allow it. I know this – like most dads with three-year-olds do – from experience, as even an afternoon nap is short-lived when someone desires a bit of your attention.
So, soon after the kids were gone, I got up, went downstairs and waited for my baby girl to awaken and come downstairs.
Eventually, I think it was at least an hour and a half later, I heard her feet on the stairs, followed by a boisterous yawn, and then I saw her.
As a three-year-old, she has no concept of a day off. So to see her daddy at home wasn’t much of a surprise. It was just another day. So, she got to the living room and began asking me to get her what she wanted.
First it was something to eat. Then she wanted to watch kid shows – those early morning programs on public television.
We cuddled for a while, and then she remembered something. She looked at me with a big smile on her face.
As much as my Martha still gets excited about snow each time it falls, I think she, like the rest of us, was ready for summer.
She was ready to go outside.
While I had planned on making my way out eventually I was not quite ready for that yet.
So, Mom volunteered to go exploring with her for a while, and I was given the task of hanging out with Gideon. He was asleep, so that was a task I could handle.
After coming back in with a pile of sticks she’s collected for no apparent reason, Martha sat next to me and asked if I wanted to play house with her.
I said I would.
So, we headed back outside where she took me to the kids’ playhouse – an old corn crib which is full of castoff furniture and whatever else they could collect from the grove.
Martha, of course, was the mom, and I was her kid. (I think she relishes in filling the role of telling others what to do.)
We watched a bit of TV on an old box fan, visited with the neighbors who came over for a visit and then had lunch.
She pulled out an old pan filled with mud, pine needles and pine cones and offered it to me.
That was the best “taco salad” I ever had. I just wish I could have stayed for dessert.