We read this poem at work during professional development today.  I thought it was a beautiful poem that captures the love a father has for his child.

Those Winter Sundays
by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

You are in DEEP DOO-DOO!

School started back and the insaneness that would be referenced as "mornings" came with it.  Courtney and I were particularly rushed one morning and it's almost as though Sawyer can smell our frenzied behavior.  It's a sixth sense that he possesses, and this is when he enjoys pushing our buttons the most.  

Anyone who has small children (and even those who don't) understand that every second counts  when you are trying to get to work in the mornings.  We had five minutes until we were to leave, which would give me twelve minutes to get Sawyer to daycare, and another ten to get to work.  PERFECT!  Right?  WRONG.  In approximately two minutes Sawyer took his pants off, defecated on my sisal rug, and then used my couch as toilet paper by rubbing his butt up and down the base of the couch.  I wanted to cry.  Maybe scream.  But I laughed.  I laughed hard, and then my friends laughed about it when I recounted the story to them at work.  One colleague did not laugh, nor did she bat an eye.  She simply said, "That is when you leave it on the floor, go to work anyways, and lock the dog in the pantry."  I pondered her advice and inquired why should I leave the dog in the pantry?  She continued her sage advice by adding, "Because you know the dog will eat the doo-doo."  This comes from a mother of three girls.  Thank God I am not alone.