I was allowed to sleep well past 9am. 9:07, to be exact. There was coffee ready and french toast waiting. There was a banner of sorts, made by Atticus, “all by myself.”
I did some posting at FameCrawler, were I’ve been writing as frantically as a sad teen in their diary, wrapped up some Disney stuff at that blog, and shook hands with myself at DadCentric. I even updated A2Z. Over. Achiever.
Later, after I managed to avoid mowing the lawn and scooping up dog poop, my wife went to work, and I took the boys to the park.
I got home in time to call my dad, my step-dad, and my grandfather, before I could sit on the couch, drink a Red Stripe and watch some baseball.
All in all, not much different than any other Sunday, except normally I would have felt obligated to do the yard work. Plus, today I actually feel like people love me. So there’s that.
It’s good to be the daddy.