Jaclyn had to leave for field work early this morning, which I was left to explain to Miles when it came time to wake him up. He was mercifully in a pretty chipper mood and seemed to take the news in stride as we went about our morning. Still, I couldn’t help but notice his eyes furtively glancing around the house as we prepared to leave for the day.
As I was putting my shoes on, I pushed the nearby bathroom door out of my way. Miles glanced up just in time to see it slowly swing shut. He tensed.
“That’s Mommy,” he whispered. That small movement seemed to confirm what he had no doubt suspected all morning: that Mommy’s absence was nothing more than an elaborate ruse. We were both just trying to trick Miles, and Mommy was now hiding in the bathroom, waiting to jump out and surprise him.
It was surprisingly difficult to talk him down from this. “No Miles,” I chuckled. “I pushed the door closed.”
“No that’s Mommy,” he said insistently, in a “cut the B.S.” sort of way.
After I tied my shoes, I walked over to the door with him and let him peek inside. And although Mommy was, in fact, NOT in there, I think that some part of him, even as I strapped him into his car seat to leave, still expected Mommy to jump out from behind something and surprise him.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 