He asked me why I tell him “I love you infinity” so much. I explained that I didn’t want him to forget it. He said he wouldn’t. Then he asked why I always tell him that I love him “no matter what.”
“Because I don’t want you to forget.”
“Even if I hit Charlie?”
“Yes, even if you hit Charlie…there will be times when I won’t be happy with you, like when you hit Charlie, but I will always love you.”
“Even when I die, Daddy?”
“Yes, even then, buddy. Always.”
And he gave me a hug. A spontaneous ‘I feel like hugging you Daddy’ hug. He just reached out his little arms and knew I would come in to complete the hug.
That little man had so many questions tonight.
“When are our neighbors going to move here?”
“Which neighbors? Like Mr Jerry and Miss Jill and baby Harrison?”
“Yes, like them, our old neighbors. They could move here and they wouldn’t even have to wear coats!”
He was lying in his little bed in his ginormous room (his words) and he said “I can’t sleep good here.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it’s light out.”
There are street lights on the street here and they shine directly into his window. Poor little guy waited 2 nights to tell us that he couldn’t sleep.
“We’ll fix them, buddy. Mommy just needs to buy some curtains. Don’t worry.”
Earlier, we played a silly game. There is a picture on the front inside cover of the Dr. Suess book “The Sleep Book.” It’s a picture of a child reading a book in bed, and it says “This Book Is To Be Read in Bed.”
We took turns reading that sentence aloud, in the funniest voices possible. The boys were so excited to think up new creative ways to say it. “Dis Dook Is Do De Dead in Dead.” Uncontrollable giggling. Little boy giggling. The purest sweetest noise in the whole world.
Mommy, silently watching us play, finally came over and gave Jack a kiss. A series of kisses that sound suspiciously like “This Book Is To Be Read In Bed.” Amazing. Then she said goodnight and left the room. And we kept reading stories, just the boys now.
This is my favorite time of night, the best part of my day. I read to my kids for purely selfish reasons, because it feels so good to stoke their imaginations and train them to dream. I often go into it tired and grouchy and grumpy. I bring a beer to help ease the transition from work to home. But I do it. And I inevitably set the beer down somewhere and forget about it. Sometimes, on nights like tonight, we experience the tenderest moments of my day, the moments I wish I could bottle up and consume again and again.
In the future, there will be wireless video cameras in every room, and we’ll be able to access video of ourselves and our special moments, without having to ruin them by whipping out our phones and capturing them actively on tape. Even then, though, I’m not sure a video would be able to capture the feelings in me on nights like tonight, when my boys do the sweetest cutest things you could ever imagine.