But I don't care. (About the blasphemy or the run-on sentence.)
Christmas 2009. Derek is looking at and interacting with everyone else in the room.
Atticus only has eyes for Daddy.
The hammock in our backyard, Fall of 2009.
One of our older son's favorite Let's-Maul-Daddy locations.
When Derek comes home from work each evening, the older two kids are all over him. He does his best to bestow attention on all three children, but Atticus and Adelaide tend to monopolize his time.
Then A & A go to bed.
And it's Daddy- Caedmon time.
On a related note, we recently began to let Adelaide answer the phone when it rings- especially at 5:00 when I'm almost certain it's Derek calling. But a problem has emerged.
See, I've always been the one to answer the phone at this time, and it's a relief to hear Derek announce that he's on his way home. We exchange some of the important points of our respective days, then hang up.
But Adelaide won't let me answer the phone anymore. So on weekdays at around five in our house, here's the scene you would most likely witness:
I'm in front of the stove, cooking up whatever's for supper with my right hand and holding Caedmon in my left. Adelaide is often sitting at the desk in the kitchen, coloring. Atticus is either playing, tormenting his sister, hanging onto my legs, or destroying something upstairs.
Then the phone rings. Adelaide and I both race to pick it up. Whichever one of us has reached it first hurries to push the "Talk" button and say, "Hello?" before the other can snatch the phone away.
Then the winner gets to talk to Derek.
The loser whines, "But I haven't gotten to talk to him all day!" and the winner hisses, "Neither have I!"
The loser then crosses her arms and sulks.
It could really go either way- it just depends on the day and how fast each of us is at that moment in time.
I'm sure Freud would have a field day with that one.