Endearing

My husband is an awesome daddy. He just spent the last four days off of work, and took a lot of time to just be silly with the kids.

He could have holed up in the office with the computer, which he likes to do sometimes. He could have holed up in a room with his guitar and written some music, which he also likes to do sometimes. If he had his hunter's license this year, he could have been out looking for Bambi. Instead, he chilled with the urchins the entire holiday weekend. And they ate it up, of course. K is a real "Daddy's Girl".

He chased them around the house (usually with one or both dogs leaping around and through them), tickled them until they couldn't breathe, and made up goofy songs just to see them laugh and hear K go, "Daaaadddyyyy!!"

He dragged out the Christmas tree and put it up, per K's request, on Friday and put it together. He even fluffed the branches, a task he generally hates to do because it's tedious. But he did it, because K looked at him with those puppy dog eyes she can get, and she helped him. A watched that process for a few minutes, and then went to grab a book to snuggle in on the couch.

He read books to both kids, let K help him stoke the fire (while mommy about had a heart attack -- there's FLAMES in there, honey!), and threw popcorn up in the air so the dogs could catch it and make the kids laugh.

There is something in me that just melts when I see my man willing to wear dress-up hats and a bead necklace while K prances around in her fairy wings, a crown, and sneakers; or getting down on the floor to play with A's cars or characters from Toy Story. Warm, fuzzy, endearment.

Love it. And Him.

I shall now scoop my mushy puddle-of-goo self off the keyboard and get about today's tasks.

As soon as I solidify again.

This ends the sappy portion of the day; tomorrow's forecast should be drier. Thank You.