I had a very awesome Sunday morning. Mostly because I worked late Saturday and then the wife and two eldest girls (and the baby boy) decided to have a girl’s night in one of the chalets, playing monopoly, doing face masks on each other and sleeping there.
That left me, the eldest boy and his two younger sisters alone, and I did the responsible father thing: we watched a whole series of Yellowstone, and they ate pizza, ice lollies, biscuits and oranges until they collapsed asleep on the couch or the play mattress we keep in the lounge.
It was awesome. The little blonde, blue-eyed two year old laughing her head off as I tickled her, and hugging me and saying she loves me, and the other two doing the same; each in their own way. The four year old stayed up past sunrise with me, which we watched together.
Our children are objectively very beautiful, and seeing her smile and talk to me just one on one after the other two had passed out was very sweet.
Her: Daddy, why is the sky red?
Me: Cause it’s sunrise my darling. Ever seen the sun come up?
Her: shakes her head no
Me: Come on then. Let’s go see it from outside the kitchen so you can see how pretty it is.
Her: Were you going to say “cool”?
Me: What? No. I meant to say pretty.
Her: Oh. I just didn’t think you’d use that word.
Me: I say it all the time. That you’re pretty.
Her: I know.
I knew what she meant too. She no doubt has this idea her father is too hard or something like it to say something is “pretty”. And it’s sad if she grows up thinking that. But I doubt she will. Because as of today she has started to see another side of me. The side that is really the one that counts and that I count.
Later she drew every one of us.
I love her pictures.
Dad
Mom – she said this is mom dancing “because of the legs”
Eldest sister – with earrings
Next eldest sister. Also with earrings.
Brother. He gets a name too.
Self-portrait.
Younger sister – note the saluting hand… as I said this little poster child for Aryanisn also has the attitude to go with it. And all there from the start. It’s not like we teach them to be little tyrants, after all.
Baby brother.
Grandma
Honestly, there is absolutely nothing that compares to hear your children laugh and spontaneously tell you they love you as you play with them.
Everything else is just salad dressing. And mostly of that French, crappy, store bought variety.
This post was originally published on my Substack. Link here
