Every morning Tate sits up sleepily in bed (he has been making the trek over to our bed between 2-4am) and looks over to where David should be. "Where'd Daddy go?" is his routine question.
"Daddy's at work" is my routine answer.
This answer appeases him and he shoves his thumb back in his mouth and snuggles closer to me.
David had to go out of town overnight last night. The kids and I were hanging out before bed on the couch and I realized that David's absence hadn't seemed to phase Tate all evening.
So I decided to turn the tables on the little guy. "Tate, where'd Daddy go?" I asked him to see what he would say.
"Daddy at work" Tate explained.
I put on a sad face and pretended to be upset that David wasn't there.
Tate looked concerned for me and patted my leg and said comfortingly, "Mommy...it's ok. Tate here."