Last night Bobby went to a Cincinnati Bengals game. So instead of this:
He saw this:
Not nearly as charming, but everyone needs a night out once in awhile, right?
Anyway, my kids were very disappointed when they learned that they would not see Daddy that evening. Joshua actually teared up a little.
Because apparently, the thought of spending one night with just me is terrible.
At one point, Sophie asked me a question and accidentally called me “Dad”. She quickly corrected herself, and Joshua followed up with”I wish it was Dad.”
NICE.
“I didn’t mean I don’t like you, that’s crazy!” he said defensively when I suggested that MAYBE that wasn’t the NICEST thing he’s ever said. “I just mean I miss Daddy.”
Mm-hmm.
Bobby puts Jonah to bed, and every night before bed they play on our bed, read books, sing songs, and other bedtime shenanigans. Tonight, when I suggested to Jonah that we go “play on Mommy’s bed” he simply fussed at me and ran away. When Bobby asks him this question, Jonah can’t get up the stairs fast enough.
“I guess he really misses Daddy.” Joshua observed.
“I’m sorry I’m so terrible.” I replied.
“It’s not that, Mom. It’s just that we’re really used to you. We hardly ever see Daddy.”
(Hardly ever?? Umm…he did drive you to school this morning, kid.)
The moral of this story: I clearly need to spend less time with my kids. The novelty of having someone who meets your every little need has apparently worn off.
Nice guilt trip, my head is spinning!
UP
Being a parent is a total crap deal. Molly does this the opposite way actually. She is super mean to Colin and wants me to do everything. Probably for the same reason, he has been more available to her most of her life. But if my mother is there, you have never seen a child run towards some one so fast! You’d think her parents were abusive plague victims.
Same problem at my house. I call my husband “fun daddy”.
Our three do this too. I just figure it’s because I am always the one telling them to do something. Wash up for dinner. Get dressed. Stop fighting. Etc. Etc. Etc. Dad, on the other hand, gets to play. Almost exclusively. If he dies have to discipline, you can bet they listen!
I’m experiencing this already, and Avonlea is only 5 months old! She saves her biggest smiles and adoring looks for Daddy. I feel like I am just a milk jug to her sometimes.