We hardly ever get to see The Donor around these parts.  We see him get ready for work in the morning, and if we’re really really lucky, we might see him come home at night. But only if it’s all-nighter-zombie-movie-night.  We get him every Sunday, and we get him for dinner on Mondays, and that’s it.  As in, it.

And that’s why we stole him away this week. We missed him. It’s weird missing someone who technically lives in your house, but we do, all of the time. And he needed it, to be honest. Sure, I work all day, too, but I don’t do it in a tux and on my feet. I deal with three children under 5 feet, he deals with 40 children over 5 feet. His days, they suck. So for Father’s Day, we gave him all the day, none of the suck. And instead of just seeing him blowdry his hair and chug his coffee, instead of seeing him walk in the door and collapse onto the couch 14 hours later, this weekend we got to see him relax.

We got to see him enjoy the small things.

And revel in the big things.

And we got to let him be someone’s dad, too.

He got new shoes, and he got to use them. Twice.

He got to share his favorite thing in the world with his sons.

And they got to share their favorite thing with him.

But best of all, I got to see my husband, he got to see his wife, and our kids got to see their mom and dad. At the same time.

And no one was getting stitches.