Every morning my youngest daughter wakes me up. You know how some people are morning people, and wake up eager for the day to begin? That’s my daughter. Other people welcome morning like a warden welcomes jailbreaks. That’s me. Yet each morning she scampers in the room with unbridled enthusiasm. Always going to my side of the bed always saying the same thing:
“Let’s be a puppy on the floor!”
Every morning, always the same, let’s be a puppy on the floor. And every morning, generally against by better judgement, I crawl on the floor with her, barking and yipping. I am not sure how this ritual began, and often, I am unsure why I let it continue. There are only two reasons why I endure this perpetual puppy practice:
1) I don’t think she enjoys anything in this world more than playing puppy with her Dad.
2) Some time in the not so distant future, she won’t come in anymore. Our time as Daddy puppy and Baby puppy will be through. While I certainly won’t miss the interruption of my sleep, I will certainly lament the ending of that season in our lives.
So until that day comes I will spend the first part of my day “ruffing it” with my daughter.
Next Time: It’s not uncommon, it’s not our problem.