It was pretty obvious the kid missed me when I was out of town. Every time I called, the Bean picked up the phone and instead of saying "hello” he would ask, “Are you coming home Daddy?” It broke my heart every time that I had to tell him that I wasn’t yet. I promised that I would make it up to him when I got back.
Upon my return home, the Bean started asking to do something “just the boys.” As much as I ached to spend some one on one time, we had to navigate the annual onslaught of grandparental visits. Three weeks later, a free weekend was in sight and I decided that I was going to take the boy to the fair.
A few days before the trip, I broke the news that we were going to have an adventure.
“In two nighttime naps, we are going to do something just the boys,” I told him (because he measures the world in daytime and nighttime naps).
He asked me where we were going and I said it was going to be a surprise. (I love the element of surprise and often keen details about plans vague, much to the delighted frustration of those around me.)
He paused and asked, “Will there be ice cream there?”
“We’re not going to Disneyland, buddy,” The Bean associates eating ice cream with Disney. (Take that Mr. Mouse!)
It ultimately didn’t matter that we weren’t going to the Happiest Place on Earth, because he got really excited about the road trip. He started telling anyone who would listen, “I’m going on a trip gus the boys and I’m going to eat ice cream and it’s going to be chocolate.”
The amazing thing is that not once did he ask me where we were going. He was just excited at the idea of spending the day eating ice cream with his dad. He didn’t care where it was. Just that we did it together.