dads

A few weeks ago we ran into a family friend of the MacGillivray's. She knew them long ago when they live in Torrance and Austin was just a skinny little curly haired boy. She was a nice as could be and had told me that she had ran across my blog some time ago and read it occasionally. She knew the boys names and told me about some of her favorite posts; like when Wyatt would sneak into the bathroom when he could barely walk, climb into the sink and turn on the faucet for his own make shift bath. Totally one of my favorite phases in his life too (insert sarcasm here). But it makes me smile because he is still so mischievous in that same exact way even now. For example, today after breakfast when he was supposed to be washing his syrup-y hands and face I walk into an empty bathroom, water on, plug pulled and soap dripping out of the soap dispenser. He had ran off to get his submarine figurine to give him a make shift bath. Classic.

As we were talking she said something that kinda struck a cord. She said that when she came across my blog she wasn't sure who I was married to. She saw our family name, MacGillivray, (and seriously how many people do you know with a name like that?) so she knew it was from the family she knew back in CA, but wasn't certain I was married to Austin. She said I never talked about Austin or posted pictures of him or mentioned him by name. It was all about the boys. She had to go back months and months to see a picture and find his name. I thought about it and realized she was totally right. I try and keep up on this blog as a journal for my boys. I hope one day they look back with happiness seeing how they spent their days, the corky things they ate and wore and said, our adventures in the backyard, the first night they slept in a big boy bed and wore big boy undies, the day they learned to ride their bike and became a big brother. All those things and a million more.

But how can I do all that without posting about their number one hero? Their dad. It would be a huge disservice to have this wonderful journal for them and not give their dad the praise he deserves.

Both boys are the same. They cry when their dad leaves the house and run to hug him when he gets homes. Me, not so much. They can barely turn their head to give me a kiss. When they get ready for bed and ask for a story, they ask for their dad when I try to lay down. We have officially started a rotation and worked me into the schedule....pathetic. When they scrap their knee, elbow, head, any everything else they scrap (and trust me they do) they go to their dad for comfort. I'm only lucky when he isn't here and I get to console them by default. They fight over who sits next to him at dinner, at Church, or at the movies. Basically Dax sits next to him and Wyatt sits on his lap. It's the same when they walk anywhere. Dax hold his hand and Austin carries Wyatt. That seems to please everyone for the time being. They want to be just like him. And why wouldn't they love him? Not only is he the greatest dad, but he takes them to get chocolate milk at McDonald's every Saturday and makes them huge pancakes every Sunday. I can not compete with that...not even close. (No really, I really suck at making pancakes....I'm a waffle kind of girl anyways).

This past week we were in Oceanside (more to come later) and the second we got to the condo my parents rent on the beach Dax was down playing in the water. I sat on the wall that separates the condo from the beach and snapped some pictures of the two of them playing with the biggest smile on my face thinking of a Primary song (I promise that was the only time I thought about Primary while I was there). Austin really is Dax's favorite pal. He really wants to be like him in every way. Dax loves him to the moon and back and I know that Austin loves the boys double that.

After they played their hearts out I was kissing Dax goodnight. As he's dosing off he looks at me square in the eye and says to me as sweet as any 4 year old in the whole world has ever sounded, "Mommy" and then he pauses I'm sure for dramatic effect, "I love daddy." I chuckle and smile and say, "Me too buddy, me too."