On Father's Day

A man who isn't afraid to wear the teething necklace is the best kind of daddy.

Justin let me sleep in after a particularly long night of awakenings and broken sleep the other night.  I would have cried my appreciation if I hadn't fallen directly back to sleep before the words I'll take care of the kids had even finished filling the air. 

What seemed like a few seconds of bliss were broken an hour later when he crept into the dim bedroom with a plea for help.  Landon needed rice cereal, and while Justin excels in every possible area of fatherhood, rice cereal preparation just isn't something he's had much practice at. 

"Sarah," he whispered, drawing back the curtain of hair that had fallen over my face.  "How do I make bubba's cereal?"

I rolled over reluctantly.  Smacked my lips in retaliation.  Blinked at the father of my children.  And said a prayer of thanks for such a wonderfully present husband. 

"Um," I mumbled through foggy lips.  "Use about four tablespoons of cereal and thaw a baggie of milk in a bowl of hot water.  Just use enough milk to make it stirrable -- I don't know how much."

He kissed my forehead and escaped the quiet room.  I drifted away while the girls pretended to be lost baby raccoons in their bedroom.  Or maybe I dreamed that part.  But in another flash of a second, Justin was back, whispering again. 

"Babe.  Babe?  Is this the right tablespoon?"  His eyebrows were creased with concentration and in his hand was an old, plastic measuring cup.  1/3 cup, from the looks of it.  He turned it over, studying it before looking at me again.  I couldn't help it; I snorted.  I covered my face with my hand, rolled into my pillow, and tried to talk--

"That....that's....oh, honey!  You have a one-third cup measure!  I said tablespoon!" 

"I....what?  Well, all the the numbers have rubbed off of these cups!  How am I supposed to know what a tablespoon looks like?"

I sat up and grabbed his arm to steady my laughter, to speak with import:  "It looks like a spoon, for starters."

A smile twitched at his lips.  "Fine...but...will you please come help me?"  His eyes were puppy-dogged and hopeful.

And while nothing would have made me happier than to stay curled in bed for another half-morning, I went.  Because it's not every day that this man needs my help; how could I deny him in his noble quest for a tablespoon?



Happy Father's Day, Justin!  I love laughing with you as we do life together!