It was still early in the day and I was already on my second load of laundry. I could hear childish giggles coming from the bedrooms as the kids played one imaginary game after another. Micah was off working on some project and I could hear the pounding coming from the garage as I transferred the still-damp clothes to the dryer.
My task finished, I moved onto the bathroom, picking up even more dirty clothes and discarded towels, wiping down the toothpaste-smuged sink, and putting down the toilet seat for the third time that morning. The hammering still going on in the background, I went into my office to make use of the “quiet time” and return some emails and send off a few orders to the photography lab.
The garage door opened and closed a few times, and after checking out of the corner of my eye to make sure one of the kids wasn’t making an escape attempt, I went back to typing my emails. Six emails later, I realized the hammering had stopped. And so had the giggles.
Walking up to Samantha’s room, I cracked open the door and saw the sweetest scene before me.
That’s one good daddy.