As I feverishly tried to assemble my son’s 1000+ piece train table (by the way, I might quit my day job and take up instructional book-writing), the kickoff to the NFL football season loomed near.
Only 60 minutes …30 minutes, sweat starting to accumulate on my shaved head. ….15 minutes …10 minutes… uh oh, nope, not gonna make it.
When the Bills vs. Chiefs game began I had barely assembled the legs and drawers on the table. Still ahead of me was putting together all the little plastic parts. Oh, and this was while my two and a half year old son was watching my every move, himself counting down the time in his own way.
As I heard the roar of the crowd, disappointed by their beloved Chiefs’ performance, I really didn’t care. I didn’t turn my head on every down. Before being blessed with my kids, I never imagined this is the way it would be.
As the first quarter turned into the second, I finally finished the table. The joy on my son’s face was worth all the frustrated choice words I uttered under my breath, and the occasional one I let slip. I realized that this was going to be my Sunday until he and his four-month old brother are old enough to join me. But, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
