One Wheeler's World

I had it in mind to sit down and write a wonderful tribute to my husband tonight.  After Runt was tucked snug into bed, Hubster retreated to the office for a bit of gaming fun, and I plopped myself in my chair to watch a little TV and tap, tap, tap my way to a happy, moving post one keystroke at a time. 

First, though, I needed to go on a hunt for some photos. 

I got myself lost in the depths of my computer for a while, growing increasingly sappy with each picture.

Before I even managed to make it to photos from the first Father’s Day we celebrated two years ago, my mush-fest was interrupted by persistent cries drifting down the hallway from Runt’s bedroom.  Eventually, I gave in and got up to see what was going on.  The moment I opened the door, I knew what was wrong.  I turned on the light to investigate and found him covered in vomit.  By blog post forgotten, I began to strip his bed and start a load of laundry while Hubster gave him a bath.

A bed full of fresh linens and one clean little boy later, we all climbed into our bed for a few minutes of cuddling before putting him back to bed.  As we lay in the dark, Hubster quietly singing “Five Little Ducks,” I couldn’t help but think about just how lucky I am to be sharing this job of parenting with him.  He is an everyday role model of the kind of man I hope my son will grow to be.  Kind and caring.  Silly and playful.  And he doesn’t even bat an eye about diving straight into vomit clean-up patrol.  Seriously.  What more could a woman ask for in the man she chooses to raise a family with?

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