missing Papa

Example 1:

Mama says some version of "No, you can't have that."  Or, "No, we can't do that right now."

Tricksy's eyes fill with tears.  Her face wrinkles up in reproachful despair.  "I wand my daaaadddyyyy!"

Example 2:

Bedtime, Saturday evening.  (M. l'O left in the wee hours Saturday morning, for a week in Senegal for work.)  Both girls are in bed.  Both want snuggles from their father.  Mama is inspired:

Shall I get Papa's pillows for you, and you can each sleep with one of his pillows?  Then it will be as though you're snuggling him all night long.

Squiss at first wanted the pillow on her face, but I convinced her to put it under her head instead.

Example 3:

Bedtime, Tuesday evening.  Tricksy was probably asleep, but the noise of Squiss climbing into the top bunk woke her.  All seems to be going well, until Squiss starts to get sad because I can't climb into the top bunk and snuggle her.  Once she gets a little sad, she gets a *lot* sad -- missing Papa.  Then Tricksy starts to cry, too.

I offer to pull out a twin futon mattress temporarily stored in their closet for Squiss to sleep on.  But then Tricksy wants to sleep on it.  When I tell her "no," she loses it (see Example 1, above).  Squiss still hasn't fully regained control.

They go to bed (again, thanks to maternal inspiration) together on the futon: Squiss's head points west, with one of Papa's pillows; Tricksy's head points east, likewise. 

Mama fixes herself a drink.

Comments

[dadwhowrites]

I know those drinks! Not in this context, though. Mind you, I'm lucky enough in my current job to only be away a night at a time on rare occasions.

[Jay]

Sam's in Italy for two weeks for work. I'm with you. Drink and all.