“Dad, if Mom says yes, can I come with you and help you!?”
I looked at my son’s face. Bright. Excited at this new thought he had just had. Eager to help his Old Man. I grimaced inside and smiled. “Sure, that’d be awesome.”
I really didn’t have time and energy to have Noah that night. I had just pulled an all-nighter and worked to get ready for our big move for the past 34 hours straight. I had left my chores, and was only there to show support at a family Easter get-together, but I longed to be elsewhere, finishing up the still long task list ahead of me. And… his excitement to spend any extra time with Dad was something I couldn’t just toss aside. His mom gave him the green light. And off we went.
It had the makings of turning into one of the worst nights ever, from a loving and involved dad’s perspective, anyway. Around 10PM my body just gave out while we still had more than an hour of work left to go. My mind went out. My patience went out. I was at the point where I was stopping constantly to rest my head against the handles of the work dolly. We had to finish. We needed food. We still had a 45 minute drive back to our old place. And I was becoming short, and grumpy, and intolerant of anything other than perfect obedience and helpfulness from my son. And that just made me more frustrated. It is a parenting place I am not comfortable being because I have very little control over what comes out of my mouth moment to moment.
Finally, we finished moving the last of the items from the truck and up to our third story apartment. A somehow still happy Noah took my keys to lock our door as we left, and as he turned he nailed his knee against the door frame. “OOOOOOH! That is the LAST thing we need right now!” he hollered as he began jumping up and down on one foot.
He started laughing.
I started laughing.
And from there on out, something snapped and we had what I would now put as one of my top three best nights with Noah, ever.