Monday, 29 June 2009

• Have I mentioned how much my child loves the ceiling fan?  I haven't?  Because I feel like I have.

  Travis has a day off today and after this very harrowing weekend (which I'll tell you about later) he needed to sleep in this morning.  So when James signaled that he was up, I got up with him and closed our bedroom door.  Normally James and I lay in bed together for a few minutes, him chattering at the ceiling fan and me trying to keep him from nose-diving right off the edge of the bed.  But this morning there was no ceiling fan because Daddy was still sleeping.

  Ninety minutes later Travis got up and came down the hallway.  James, who is always very, VERY excited to greet his Dad, started wriggling and flopping on the floor like an overly eager puppy.  I stood him up and James made a beeline straight for where his Dad was waiting, crouched with arms out, to catch him in a hug.  We were both grinning, waiting for that picturesque moment when James would launch himself that last foot into Travis' open arms.  Except about three steps before he reached Travis he made a sharp right turn, flew down the hallway, and stood squealing, pointing, clapping with delight.  Morning could finally begin, the ceiling fan was awake.

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