Let Them See Us Love

She took a bite of the limp waffle fry and threw the remaining piece back into the bowl. It was so natural, as if that's what you do when you don't like something you've eaten, you toss it back to the table. That and spitting out the piece you bit off, which thankfully she didn't do. 

"Did you just throw it back in the bowl?" I asked my wife Amy.

Amy thought about it for a few seconds and then started to laugh. I laughed as well. Soon we were both laughing hard, the kind of laughing that brings tears and makes you pee a little. 

"It wasn't crispy enough," Amy managed to say between her crying laughter. 

"Oh my goodness," I said, laughing just as hard. "You just threw it back in the bowl."

Our laughter continues for a few minutes, with our two teens Beatrice and Bryce seemingly oblivious to our funny experience. Seemingly being the operative word, because we know they pay attention to more than they let on. Because they're always analyzing every single thing we do and calling out our mistakes. All. The. Time. 

I rarely take it personally anymore, though. Even when I hear, "Dad, you always do [this] all the time." This being a variety of Dad and guy behavior that I'm judged on daily. Even Mom isn't immune from the call-outs. This is normal development for teens and the beginning of them finding themselves and their own voices.

And now that they're finding themselves they're asking us all sorts of questions about our past -- before we met, when we met, after we met and before they were born. We answer most of them, but not all of them, especially the ones about when we were teens. Our teens are good kids. Amy and I, weren't so much. 

Since we've had our kids, they've watched us and absorbed much of what we do and say. Yes, they've seen us laugh until we cry and nearly pee our pants, like with the recent waffle fry incident. They've also seen us kiss and hug too long for their own good and cry, "Ewwww, get a room!" (Yes, they do know what that means now. Ugh.)

But they've also seen us upset. They've seen us cry. They've seen us mad at them and at each other. They've seen us fight. They've seen many of our high and low moments over the years. A lot of modeling moments, most of which were always grounded in love.

In fact, over 14,207,040 minutes have passed since Amy and I first met one day at the beach. Every minute with Amy and now our children adds to my heart’s coral reef.

And if I've learned anything during those millions of minutes, I've learned to let them see us love.