There are moments as a father where I wonder if my kids are getting it or not.
Then there are moments when I know that they are.
The other day I was outside with my boys. Eli was raking and Obadiah had just gotten my shovel out of our shop. He began to rake a hole next to our bonfire spot. The conversation that ensued was rather hilarious.
Me: “Obadiah, I really don’t think you should dig right there?”
“Well, because someone might trip in it in the dark when we are having our next bonfire.”
“But I think it will be OK.”
And then he continues to dig.
I know he heard me. He acknowledged my instruction. He argued with me concerning why it was OK.
So I just stared. I just watched him for a moment as he continued to dig.
He later looked up at me and said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s that face you do when you look at me when I’m not listening…oh, wait. Ah. Sorry. Oh, me.”
Shovel goes down.
And then I try to figure out what makes my face so transparent in these moments.
I love being a dad.