Every night, right at bedtime, I ask my oldest child what his favorite part of the day was.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Last night was one of those nights that all the nonparents of the world laugh about.
It was the kind of night where your kids hate you and decide sleep is for the birds.
Oh yeah, my wife is traveling for work as well.
That means no rest for the weary. Luckily, cold brew coffee is a thing.
I’m also at an interesting crossroads at work. I am in the middle of taking over leadership of my team while still managing my sales territory, training a new team and putting up quota.
Today was a grind day that felt that way too.
After work, I took the kids to a birthday party with a gigantic pirate ship bounce-house that was absolutely bad-ass.
Rough life for these kids.
They sang the song, had pizza and cake frosting (can’t be bothered eating the cake part), and went wild and crazy on the pirate ship.
And after granting 5 final, additional, last-time-I-promise minutes for the bounce house, my 4-year old still had a meltdown when it was time to pack up and go.
It was there that my patience officially ran out. After getting home, I rushed a quick bath for the baby and got him to bed. Then got the 4-year-old the same treatment.
Getting through story time as quickly as possible was top of my mind; not an easy task when someone asks 48 questions per page.
I’ll admit it. I was done. End of the rope. Finito. Ready to punch out for a couple hours.
Then, my oldest completely disarmed me.
He asked me what my favorite part of the day was.
I told him it was that moment, right there.
Sometimes we wonder whether we are getting through to our children.
And sometimes we know.