It actually started the Friday before with a tough business decision that bled into ghosts of family estrangement past on Father's Day itself, to a visit with a dear old friend with AIDS, to a break-up of another dear friend's marriage, to a good neighbor's foreclosure, to an even more difficult business decision, to my mother's ever-deteriorating health, to now having to leave my family for a few days to attend this year's SHRM conference in New Orleans' happy summertime convection oven (that'll be good for the skin).
Nothing that daddy can't handle, right? Especially with it all piling up on my daddy daycare day. I spilled it all to Beatrice yesterday afternoon while we basked in the backyard summer sun, Bea bouncing happily in her outdoor bouncy and eating a dirty yellow blow-up ball (hey, a little dirt never hurt me and Mama growing up).
She shrieked, drooled and bounced; she gets me. Her single lower inciser smile could heal the maimed and stop runaway trains in less time than it takes me to digest adult-sized angst.
God bless my little Supergirl Bea.