Gas Station Boudin

I love that first moment when I walk in the front door of our home, returning from a very long day at work. For years, Hannah would yell, “DAD-EEEEEEEE!!!”, something she still does on occasion, but it’s no longer guaranteed (I miss it <sniff>). 

The girls will typically slam into me, knocking my messenger bag off of my shoulder in the process. I will hear about their days, often simultaneously, which can be fairly confusing. At the same time, my eyes and ears let me know if I need to start prepping for dinner, or whether Stacey cooked or picked something up. I’ll then find Stacey, while one of the girls breaks off and heads back to reading, homework, an art project, or dressing up the cats (the other will get even closer to me, like a remora).

All of the above occurs in the span of three or four minutes. And once I’m back in the kitchen, it only takes a few seconds before I KNOW the following will be asked:

“Dad, can I get your iPad?”

They check their gmail accounts; they play games; they play Hamster on a Piano for the billionth time. 

The above photo is what Hannah did last night. I laughed for about an hour after she showed me. She’s not a silly kid, but when she wants to crack me up, I am helpless.