The Good Part

This morning, during the chilly dawn hours, a little two-and-a-half foot dude came sleepily sauntering into my room. I had heard his door open only moments before but I could tell he went out into the living room to see if his daddy was still here.

Toby had left just 4 minutes before.

I could see the disappointment in Landon's face even though he never voiced his disappointment in missing Daddy.

No matter what time of night Landon goes to bed, he wakes up every morning right around the time Toby leaves for work. Sometimes he gets to see his dad; other times he barely misses him.

Toby keeps the house quiet and dark in hopes that Landon will stay asleep for at least a little longer. It never works anymore. Sometimes we'll hear him get up and get dressed even before Toby is up.

And the look on Landon's face when he comes into our room and sees Toby still in bed, is so precious! It's as if seeing his daddy, determines whether he got out of the right side of bed or not just seconds before.

He'll pounce on Toby, tell him to get up and get dressed. Not even I get away with such bossing! Toby just laughs and tells Landon to go wait out in the kitchen for him. Then, the two of them embark on some breakfast adventure and fill the house with all kinds of warm, good smells.

How is it that a daddy can have such impact on a little boy? This morning, I told Landon that he and I could make breakfast together. But, it didn't have the same effect on him as Toby's breakfast companionship does with Landon.

Maybe it was because I don't let Landon break the egg into the hot, sizzling frying pan all by himself.

Maybe it was because I stopped him from digging into the hash browns and made him wash his hands first.

Maybe it was because I didn't give him enough coffee.

Maybe it was because I helped him butter his toast and I didn't let him fill the toaster up with lots of bread.

Maybe it was because I stopped him from splattering his egg yolk all over his jammies as he thoroughly saturated his toast with the yellow, gooey substance.

Maybe it was because I'm not the dad.

Dads seem to have an intuition of what makes their boys become men and poor mothers sadly lack in that department. Even when it comes to cooking (a culturally thought of "woman's" task), men just have a different approach to the whole thing.

I know of many couples who both enjoy cooking. When the mom cooks supper, it's usually casseroles, salads and veggies. When the dad cooks, it's steaks, gourmet sandwiches and rich desserts. When a man is a good cook, he's usually a much more advanced cook than even a good woman cook.

Why is that? Men don't skimp and stretch things like women tend to do.
And when it comes to time spent with their children, a lot of dads have an unending amount of quality time intended only for their offspring. Even if it takes 10 times longer to do a task, if they can teach their child to enjoy and learn the project at hand, the dad seems to enjoy investing countless hours teaching their child.

The mom on the other hand, busies herself with getting supper on the table on time, keeping the children from the hot stove (instead of teaching them how to avoid getting burned) and reminding the "helpers" (that she does allow to help her) to remember to wash their hands all the time.

If it's anything like our house, it's just not quite as fun with Mom as it is with Dad.

How much I want to remember the "good part" like Jesus reminded Martha in the Bible to do, and choose that. For that will not be taken from me.

And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:
But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

Luke 10:41-42