Again changing the subject.. being a dad. A SINGLE dad… grateful.  They’re so at peace.  I ask Emma what she’s doing, over there in the corner in her grandfather’s old chair, she says nothing and notes it’s dark and is going to put on a light.  “Good job, Mama…” I say.  She smiles at me, then goes back to pretending to manage her hotel from the iPad I gave her.

Closing night.  Capped.  Grateful for the kids, everything they day and how they move up and down the stairs, what Henry demands and how he communicates in his color and abbreviated way.

Day over before I wanted it to be…. Kids should be in bed, but it’s Saturday night at Daddy’s house, so… fuck it.