So Incredibly Thankful For Grace And Mercy

Incredibly Thankful For Grace And Mercy

I am so incredibly thankful for something that happened over this last Thanksgivingving weekend.

This might sound melodramatic, but I am serious.

It shook me about the possibility of it all.

I am thankful that K didn’t die.

See we were in Kerrville and everyone was downstairs in the kitchen with Grandma and Grandpa.

It was so inconsequential, I don’t even remember what we were doing – but mom and I turned around for maybe sixty seconds while, H and K, you both played between the kitchen table and downstairs bathroom.

We let our attention wander with the simple directive of:

“H, watch K for a second.”

A minute later, I hear only silence and run around the corner to check on you two.

You were both gone and I went farther around the corner to investigate.

We found you both halfway up the staircase to the second floor.

K, you are still learning to walk, but you managed to army-crawl halfway up the stairs!

And H thought she was being such a good sister staying just ahead of you and cheering you on!

I mean, hardwood stairs, a tile floor at the bottom, and an unsteady one-year-old nearly 7 feet up off the ground…

I nearly freaked by the time I rescued the situation.

In a ridiculous act of parenting, I asked H:

“I thought you were watching her?”

H responded:

“I was. She was doing awesome!”

I love you.

-Dad

All I Want Is To Get An RV And Go

All I Want Is To Get An RV And Go

You know what I want? I want to get in an RV and go.

It’s a little fantasy that I have.

I have a job that is completely mobile – all I need is a laptop to work.

We buy an RV, spend a few days packing, and then we just leave for four or five months.

Maybe we take the ultimate road trip.

Maybe we get snowed in somewhere in Wyoming, have coffee in the rain in Portland, go bowling in Little Rock, watch the sunrise over the Grand Canyon, try a Primanti Brothers sandwich in Pittsburgh, and share a gigantic pretzel at Disney World.

I want to go everywhere as a family.

In the end, we might not get to do it all.

But that’s ok too.

I love you.

-Dad

Kennebunkport

Kennebunkport

Let’s go to Kennebunkport.

Do you want to?

Maybe it will be fall when we go.

The leaves might be turning, and the cold wind from the North Atlantic will blow our hair back as we stand on the coast and look towards Nova Scotia.

I hope we do that.

But I am writing to confess.

The nicknames are out of control. Again.

K, we have taken to calling you “Kennebunkport” here and there.

In my head, it’s more of a: “Kenny-bung-port.”

And we don’t just say it.

It comes out sounding more like a song, or chant.

My Kenny-bunk-port! My Kenny-bunk-port! My Kenny-bunk-port!

We are ridiculous.

I know this.

We are all so glad you came to join us.

I love you.

-Dad