Misunderstanding

One week.

One more week of lazy mornings sleeping in on my days off, before I have to begin waking weary children, making them look presentable, and assuring there is enough money in their lunch accounts all before 8am.

Yesterday Reese woke up early. Crazy 6am early. She went downstairs with David before he had to take off for work. She settled in on the couch and I stayed put in my cozy bed, hopeful that I would be able to go back to sleep for a bit longer.

A few minutes after the garage door closed, I heard Reese's footsteps bound into our room. They went back out and down the stairs, paused, then ran back up into our room. By this time she was crying. "What in the nation is wrong?" I asked. "Daddy left without saying good-bye to me," she blubbered.

I sent her back downstairs after a few minutes of sympathizing with her. Then I texted the offender: Reese is crying because you didn't tell her good-bye.

He texted back: I kissed her and told her I was proud of her.

Pacified, I settled in for a little more shut eye. A few minutes later, here came another text: Did she remember?

Ugggghhhhh.

I plodded downstairs and found Reese laying on the couch. "Reese..." I said, "Daddy said he kissed you and told you he was proud of you as he was leaving for work. That counts as saying good-bye!".

She looked thoughtful for a minute, remembering back to earlier that morning, then giggled and said, "Ohhhh...I thought he said he was going to the bathroom!".