Since I was a little boy, I've wanted to be a lot of things. I wanted to be a fireman until I realized that it required inserting oneself into life-threatening situations. I also wanted to be a basketball player, but discipline and athletic ability were never strong suits of mine. I'm sure there were other vocational ambitions that I harbored along with these two, but one thing I never imagined myself being was a stay-at-home dad. I never stayed awake at night dreaming of changing diapers, or spoon-feeding applesauce. But every weekday, from 8:00 til 12:00, that's my job. I pick up Cheerios, wipe noses, read books with cardboard pages, tie shoes, watch Sesame Street, and position hair bows. I buckle car seats, plan field trips, and and beg for kisses. On a good day she takes a nap and I take a shower. On a bad day she dumps her milk on the floor, refuses to put clothes on, and we both cry for mommy to come home. There are some days when I never get a moment to pause and think. There are some days she and I are both painfully aware that I have virtually no idea what in the world I'm doing. There are some days when I think about all the things I need to do but can't do because Anna Grace demands all of my attention. There are even days when I wish I were a fireman or a basketball player. More often though, there are days when she learns something new that I helped to teach her; days when I don't have to beg for kisses or count down the minutes until 12:00. And so I realize that I am richly blessed. My work is its own reward, and my boss is a beautiful little girl whose only flaw is her flair for getting jelly in her hair.
