one of the favourite parts of my day is coming home.
usually the following happens: i walk in. i see that initial smile from my children. wait. it hits them and then they charge into me shouting "papa!". very fast too. sometimes knocking me over. either they're getting big or me older.
depending on the time of evening i'm then thrown into a bout of requests, feeding, nappy changes, milk preparation, tidying, teeth cleaning and bedtime stories.
the transition from working to being a dad is instant.
yesterday i was throwing reuben in the air as i did with caleb and joshie. he smiled. laughed as his his flopped around. i felt like a king and he my prince. as i did so i had this strange sensation sweep over me of fathers lifting their childen across the ages and the world today... and then the feeling morphed into a strange sense of fellowship with them. i thought of my father. my grand father. those around me who have children and even those who do not who have been lifted by their parents.
it's simple. to be thrown around or be the one lifting.
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