Deferred Dreams

It was the day for his six month checkup. I had to make the trip to the doctor. It was in the early afternoon we would leave. Zak and me.

Dad is always at work in the early afternoon hours. He knows what time Dad gets home. He can tell it by where the sun is located. He asks every morning when Dad is getting off work. Most days the answer is the same. He listens to the time, and then tells me his own version of the time. "When I get up from my nap then my Dad will be home from work." I nod in agreement. This happens every. single. day. This day I explained that we would be going to the doctor during his nap time . He quickly added, "then Dad will be home when I get home from the doctor." I nodded. All was well.

Lunch came. He was to eat his lunch and then we would head out for the scheduled appointment. Then the unthinkable happened. Dad came home from work early! Normally, this causes great excitement. His Dad is home. This day, it caused tears. Quite a lot of tears. Tears that started flowing down on his sandwich. The reason for them, unmentioned. I thought he had bit his tongue - or perhaps a finger. I made my inquiry as to why the sudden burst of tears.

"Dad is home!" The cry got louder. The food in his mouth evident to all as he let go of all the emotion inside.

"Zak, why are you crying? Daddy just got home a little early."

"Because I have to go with you!" The words were spoken as an indictment to the terrible injustice that was before him.

"But son," I tried to comfort, "you and Mom get to go to the doctor this afternoon. You get to spend the whole day with Mom all by yourself!" I tried to make it sound as good as the most exciting of elementary field trip every offered in the history of education.

Then he asked as sincerely as is possible for an eight year old, " Why would I want to spend the afternoon with you when I could be with my Dad?"

I was trumped. No rebuttal. No recourse. No answer in the entire world could dispute the fact that he had a point. An afternoon. Mom? Dad? No contest.

We left. He was sad. We had the whole afternoon to ourselves. The question of the afternoon: "How much longer till we can get home and I can be with my Dad?" (A gluten free snack on the way home helped my low ratings rise a little; but not anywhere close to as high as Dad's ratings!)

They are bonded. Father and Son. The way it should be. Zak's best friend is his Dad.

Thanks for stopping by. I am so glad you did!

Blessings,

~Martie