There are nights when I work late, sometimes not touching the cold January door knob of my home until 8:45 PM. Meanwhile one of my daughters fights off sleep to wait up for me. She listens for my whisper as I walk in the house, "Are the girls asleep yet?" The next thing my wife and I hear is a call from upstairs, "Daddy?" Late one evening recently, I walked into this story. My wife, with twisty-ties and clips strewn about her hair from 4 year-old hands, looked up from the recliner, TV controller in hand and said, "I literally just sat down. The girls would not stay in their beds. Summer just fell asleep. Maren has been waiting for you."
I went to give the princess her long-awaited goodnight kiss. Upon my return downstairs, I determined to love my wife well. I could see the strain of the day in her eyes. I could hear the whining voices she listened to all day as I stepped over coloring books and abandoned markers in their search for the shelter of their marker tops. I threw a bowl of chicken and broccoli casserole into the microwave for my late night dinner.
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