Hard Working Man

We are currently in the process of building a playhouse in our backyard for Meegs to enjoy.  I use the word “we” loosely, because really, Kevin’s building it.  But hey, what’s a project without a supervisor, right? Watching him out the window building what will likely be her very favourite spot in our yard, makes me smile. Smile, and cringe. Watching tar paper rolling off the roof, one-foot-top-wrung-of-the-ladder reaches, and sunscreen-less 30 degree days spent putting up walls are what lead to the cringing. I have to look away or I’d be constantly shouting out the window “be careful!” and “do you want me to hold that ladder?”  I’ve learned that my help, while silently appreciate I’m sure, isn’t as well received as I might hope.

Meegs often says “Daddy is a hard working man,” and he really is. Much of his spare time is spent doing things to make our life better, or more fun.  It’s easy to forget how much time and effort it takes to do what he does, and it’s equally as easy to ask “What’s wrong? You seem cranky. What can I do to help?” when all that hard working Daddy really wants is a nap. Because 3 am comes early every morning, and those of us with the luxury of the summer off tend to forget that he continues to work before the crack of dawn, in addition to building the house that childhood dreams are made of.

An overnight visit with my aunt was on Meegs’ agenda for the last 2 days, and while Kevin (frighteningly) puts the roof on the playhouse, I sit on the porch reflecting on how legitimately thankful I am that he is ours. Because after all, he’s a hard working man.

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