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I’ve described for you my typical Sunday morning. I’ve told you how I relish sleeping in. Look forward to that first sip of hot chocolate on my lips. Indulge in a couple hours of uninterrupted reading. I’ve mentioned how grateful I am to the man who makes this all possible.
Recently, while he and I were discussing my gratitude he confessed that his indulgence of my whim is not completely unselfish….what? I was shocked, shocked. Actually, I was a little relieved. It’s hard to lead such a pampered life, the guilt alone. Now that I know he gets something out of it I feel released of this burden.
He went on with his confession. Since during the week he has to leave before six in the morning, he never gets to wake up with the kids. He told me that Sunday mornings are his time to be alone with the kids. He said that when it is just the three of them they are calm and relaxed. They eat breakfast together. They watch cartoons. It’s the only time the kids aren’t jumping like mini circus people. It’s just him and them.
I don’t feel a bit jealous of this time. He needs this, deserves this. I mean there are other times during the week that it’s just the three them but it usually involves bicycles or tools or garden implements. This is different. This is a dad being with his kids. This is the true meaning of stillness. He enjoys them for who they are and they look forward to this time. I hear them from all the way upstairs, “Dad, where are you going to sit? I want to sit next to you.” “Daddy, can I sit on your lap this time?”
It doesn’t seem like much, a couple hours on a Sunday morning. But it has become as ritual to them as mine is to me. And after we each have our time, our needs met, we come together again. The day is full of possibility and the four of us are ready for any adventure. Have I mentioned how much I love Sunday mornings.