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Daddy’s (not so) disappearing act

Tonight’s post is a guest blog written by friend, blogger, and fellow author, Deb, aka “The Monster in Your Closet”

Be sure to check out her blog and Facebook page!
Blog: http://deborah-bryan.com/
Facebook: The Monster in Your Closet


“Sunshine Girl” was my long-running nickname, but it hasn’t always been sunshine for me. My karaoke song, for example, was Everclear’s “Father of Mine.”
If you haven’t heard that song, you should listen to it now. I’ll wait.
OK. So now that you’ve heard it, you know it’s not the most upbeat song about fathers. It’s a perfect expression of how I feel about my father, or felt about him until I decided he wasn’t worth the energy.
My honey, a.k.a. “Ba.D.” (for “Baby Daddy”), wasn’t too keen on his own absentee dad. His own father’s mistakes were ones he wasn’t interested in repeating with our son.  I took heart in this as we prepared to meet that son in late 2009.
Two years later, Ba.D.  deeply loves our son, Li’l D. He doesn’t do this passively, but rather in very active, engaged and caring ways that win Li’l D’s heart ever more by the day. Indeed, one of the best parts of my day is when Ba.D. gets home early enough for Li’l D to hear the front door key turning in the lock and shout, “Daddy!” before hurtling toward the door for a tackle hug.
And yet . . .
To talk to my son outside the apartment, you’d never guess it. You’d think, “Aw, poor kid. What’s his dad’s story, anyway?”
A few weeks ago, we all went for a stroll along the water. Ba.D. ran off to grab the car, a fact Li’l D barely seemed to note until some strangers walked by.
“Daddy ran away,” he said sadly, leaning his chin on his tricycle’s handlebar.
“What?” asked the dad of the trio.
“Daddy ran away,” Li’l D repeated.
I laughed and said, “No, no, Daddy just ran to get the car. He’ll be right back.”
The next day at the grocery store, we got a replay with new families. Several of them.
This morning, we got on our apartment’s empty elevator. Instead of going down, the elevator rose to the third floor, where two young women stepped on for the trip downward.
“I miss Daddy,” Li’l D proclaimed without preface, looking plaintively at the taller of the two women.
“Where is he?” she asked. Both women smiled.
“Hiding at home,” Li’l D explained in reply, shaking his head.
“Oh, sweetie,” I said. “Daddy’s just getting ready for work!”
There are lots of moments like these, so please: if my son tells you his daddy’s run away or is in hiding, confirm with me before attempting to soothe him.
My son’s adorable, yes. He’s reasonably articulate for a 28-month-old.
One thing he is not, yet, is reliable.
I think he’ll keep him anyway.
Posted on January 28, 2012 by Holdin' Holden 5 Comments
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