Somewhere to Sleep

Life’s busy right now.

Camp is in full swing. I wake up thinking about schedules and staffing and emails I haven’t sent. The days are long, the work is constant, and honestly, I’ve felt the weight of missing time with my son.

I don’t get many slow moments with him lately. Not like I used to. Most nights, I get home just to slump into bed and he’s already asleep.

But then this happened.

We were at a restaurant. Nothing fancy. He was tired, and so was I. And instead of squirming or screaming or needing something every five seconds like toddlers usually do, he just… gave in. He rested his head on my shoulder and fell asleep.

And for the first time in a while, I wasn’t in a rush.

I didn’t have to parent him. I didn’t have to entertain or correct or keep him from falling off a bench. I just got to hold him. Just got to be his dad.

If I had been with him all day, I probably would’ve been frustrated. I probably would’ve snapped at some point, wishing for a break. But because I hadn’t been, because I’d been away, buried in work and noise and people, I could actually feel how much I missed this.

He just needed somewhere to sleep.

And I needed to remember what it feels like to hold my son.

That moment mattered more than anything else I had to do that day.