I am a pushover


Some of my posts will have nothing whatsoever to do with work-life. This is one of them.

My son (and wife) has a hectic schedule. Monday mornings he’s coaxed (read: yanked) out of bed by Maritza at 6:40 and plopped in the backseat of her truck with some cheerios and re-runs of Yo Gabba Gabba, Finding Nemo or Cars. He’s escorted down to my in-laws where he’ll spend the next 3 days and 2 nights in Little Havana. They stay over because Maritza works nearby  and doing that drive 5 days a week would surely have her committing vehicular homicide, especially in Jersey, especially prego. That bit will soon whittle down to Mondays and Tuesdays, as Wednesdays will be reclaimed by Grammy Melone. Then Thursday and Friday he wakes up with Dad. We have waffles and an organic protein shake. Yes, it’s OK for him to drink it, promise. Then gets dropped at school where he spends the rest of the day (well, probably the first 5 minutes on the bowl.. mmm, protein shakes) learning, playing and exchanging germs with 20 other miniature people. He likes it. But the quivering lip that he throws my way as I hand him over to Miss Monica in the doorway leaves me broken-hearted for most of the morning. Each day it gets easier, though.. mostly for me, but for him, too.

So tonight, he wanted to sleep in bed with us. This is a nightly routine. He cries. He pleads to do anything but sleep.  He calms down. We talk. We read books. We count the stars from his Turtle lamp. Then after 20 minutes of bending and twisting my body to fit in his midget bed to rub his back and “help him fall asleep”, I wake up to him in my face, nodding with puppy dog eyes and whispering, “I go Mommy bed now, Daddy?”

And so here I am, typing away with him snoring between Maritza and I, and it’s perfect. I guess it’s a bad habit, but it’s too hard to say no. I think about when he’s 17 and the thought of snuggling up isn’t all that appealing. So I’ll savor it tonight, maybe tomorrow and possibly a few more nights down the road.

I’m in love. I can’t imagine having a daughter… God help me. G’night.


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