I was just remembering a random moment from Thanksgiving and it made me smile. Chris had injured himself playing Turkey Bowl football with the guys from church and their sons, and Dad/Danny had gone to the hospital to give him a blessing. We carried on and continued to get dinner ready, set the table, all that jazz.
There was the sound of the front door opening, and Chloe was the first to greet the guys home. Then she ran to me in the kitchen, with her eyes just sparkling, and with a big old grin exclaimed, "YOUR DADDY'S HOME!"
I clapped my hands and said,"Oh, Yeah!!" and we went to greet our 'daddys'. Truly, I was pretty happy my 'daddy' was home, but it did, and still does, bring a tear to my eye to think how thrilled our children are when their daddys come home. Aren't we just so lucky to have them? :)
