This morning, per her Wednesday custom, Sarah went to an outdoor workout in the pre-sunrise Minnesota air. (Blizzard last night? Pshaw.) But this post isn’t about Sarah’s well-known bad-assery. Just setting the scene: I’m solo dad.
So at 6:30, I’m down in the kitchen, making my breakfast, steeling myself to shovel the walk and trudge through the very deep snow to school. Griffin comes down earlier than usual — fully dressed — excited for a snow day. (His school was cancelled. Mine was not.) He settles down at the art table to paint some volcanoes. Maggie comes padding into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and croaks, “Where’s Mama?”
I remind her that Mama vanishes on Wednesday morning. She looks sad and cold, and may burst out crying at any moment. Griffin sees this and says, “Maggie, would you like to paint with me at the art table?” Maggie looks up, but shakes her head… not interested. Griffin’s shoulder’s slump, but then he takes a deep breath, and says, “Ok. Would you like me to read a book to you on the couch?” Maggie considers this for a moment, and slowly nods her head. Moments later, they are snuggled up on the couch reading a book together. And my heart is bursting.
