While I do dishes

While I do dishes, I listen to your dad talk to you. Mostly silly. I hear him make silly noises, blow raspberries on your cheek. I hear you squeal. You egg him on. While I do dishes, I hear your dad tell you about his day, and intently ask about yours. He fills in the gaps of what he thinks you've done, praising you for rolling over, for helping momma with the laundry, for seeing a squirrel. While I do dishes, sometimes dad bathes you. I hear water, splashing, more giggles and a hearty chuckle from your dad. He calls you a fish, you swim all over the tub. I hear a play by play of what he's doing, and how you're enjoying it. It is a wonderful glimpse into "man world" that has taken over my house. I hear him tell you about all the things you'll get to do as you get older, how you'll be best friends with your dad, how you'll find frogs, chase fireflies and camp out. I hear how your dad will teach you everything you need to know, from opening the door for momma to changing the brake pads on an old Ford truck. All while I quietly listen from my kitchen. How I love doing dishes! It is like I am a fly on the wall, an insider to all the secrets. I hope it will always be like this. The laughter, the giggles, the mess, the "boyness" of it all. I cherish watching my husband become a father, and I am so blessed to give my son such a wonderful role model. The dishes now done, the towel on the counter. Hands slightly pruny, I head for the back. I can hear Noah's low voice telling Gideon "no he cannot stay up late to watch tv", chiding him, joking, loving, giggling. I can't wait to join my boys!