While driving home last Friday with 3 year-old Kenyan, we were stopped at a traffic light when a fire truck screamed by. A couple of seconds later, another truck also went by. My son, with genuine concern in his voice said, “Two of them! I hope whoever is in an accident or a fire is safe.” Then he added, “I’ll say a prayer for them.” I glanced back and his eyes were indeed closed. And that’s when I felt a deep feeling of pride. I had done a good job!
The next day, as I sat at the end of my driveway playing traffic watch to Mikhail and his friends from the block as they cycled up and down the street, I couldn’t miss the big smile on Mikhail’s face as he rode past me. I kept telling him to keep his eyes on the road. “Daddy, you taught me well!” He said on one of his ride pasts. He had recently started riding without training wheels, very reluctantly at first. My proud eyes followed him as he rode, and I thought, “I really did a good job.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” Treyton yelled at me as I climbed the stairs after making them their first meal of the day. “For what?” I asked. “For making us breakfast. It never fails to catch me off guard. He thanks me for everything, as does his brothers. For allowing them to stay up that extra ten minutes, for making them a meal, for taking them to the splash park. Nothing gets missed. “You are welcome, boys!” I yelled back as the other two chimed in with their own thanks. Yep, I done good!