What if I told you I could move the sun...

Shit! I could tell by the way the sun was splitting the shades at my window I was late again. A makeshift sun dial cast on my wall mocking me. I must have hit snooze one too many times. I jumped out of bed skipping my slippers and ran for the bathroom to prepare myself to face another day. Halfway down the hall I felt it that unmistakable pain shooting up my leg originating from the heel of my foot. The pain only a man with young children knows. The pain that only a single missed LEGO block can cause, turning your hallway into a minefield of morning mayhem and disaster. Well, if anyone else overslept they were up now after the slew of expletives that came regrettably out of my mouth. Looking up from my throbbing foot wanting to banish LEGOs from the house. For good. I saw my son, his eyes half closed and filled with the night, barely awake, looking puzzled. He asked "are you okay daddy?" "No I'm not okay. I'm late, and because you can't clean up your toys I hurt myself, go get ready for school", I said, yelling down the hall. I could almost see my words gun him down as fast as his half asleep mind could process them. Half limping, I continued my journey to the bathroom keeping my eyes peeled for another stray LEGO, sitting, waiting to attack. Once I made it safely to the bathroom I shut the door and let out a deep sigh. Standing with my hands firmly pressed against the vanity counter top I looked in the mirror. I wish I could say I saw a man I was proud of. A man that wasn't overworked and angry, who's first words of the day were yelled at his son. I splashed some water on my face, combed my hair and brushed my teeth. Upon opening the door I was greeted by my son. He was scanning the hallway looking for anything he may have missed last night when he cleaned up for bed. I could tell my words had an impact on him. He looked up from the floor and said "I'm sorry daddy I didn't mean to make you hurt yourself.". Having calmed down while in the bathroom, I just looked at him and said "its okay I shouldn't have yelled at you its me that should be sorry". I told him "we are running late. Finish getting dressed and get downstairs so we can eat breakfast before I take you to school". I headed downstairs and started getting breakfast ready. Shortly after he came down and walked into the kitchen. He was wearing my hardhat and had my tape measure hooked onto his pocket. I asked him what he was doing and he simply replied "I'm going to work like you". I poured him some juice and set it on the table only to turn and see him now sitting in my chair, my cup of coffee in hand, using my cell phone to pretend he was talking on the phone. I looked at him laughing, and said "what are you doing you know that's my seat". He stared back at me with a look of annoyance, as if I was interrupting him on an actual phone call, and said "I'm pretending to be you". I poured him a bowl of cereal slid it onto the table at his usual chair and said "slide over Mr Important and eat your cereal we're running late". We sat in silence, him finishing every last fruit loop he could manage to get on his spoon, and I drinking every last drop of my twenty ounce mug of possibility, hoping to survive this morning. Looking at my watch and realizing we were now leaving much later then we ever have, I scooped up the dishes from the table threw them in the sink, grabbed my keys, and we were off.

Now, one thing about leaving late is you're right on time for rush hour traffic. We were cruising along at a snail's pace, making horrible time, getting later and later with every passing second. I was unexpectedly growing all the more angered with every honking horn. The brake lights tapping in front of me were mocking me in the same manor the make shift sundial on my wall did upon first opening my eyes this morning. I was looking in the rear-view trying to merge onto the off ramp when i saw him looking equally as frustrated, his face scrunched up and his eyes squinting, using his hand to try and block the morning sun glare. I merged in and we crept along, all the while the sun was causing havoc on anybody lucky enough to be going east bound at this time. We finally reached the end of the off ramp and we took our normal right turn toward school. Now out of traffic and moving along I heard him say "thank you daddy". A little confused I again looked in the rear-view and saw him obviously much more at ease with the sun now behind us and not shining in his eyes and said "thank you for what?". He just looked at me in the mirror and said with a smile on his face "for moving the sun!". It was in that moment I had a sudden realization. In his naive young mind, still not tainted by late mornings, rogue LEGO's, bad drivers, and traffic, he actually thought I... me... his father.. had moved the sun so it wasn't in his eyes anymore. He actually thought i could do the impossible and WOULD do the impossible for him. I realized that I had to act like the man I wanted him to grow up to be twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, even when i was late, in pain, or tired. He was always watching. This explained his morning make believe. He wanted to be exactly like me. .This added a whole other level to being a father. I never again took for granted that he would understand. That annoyed look he gave me when i interrupted his make believe phone call - that was a learned response. Just like the anti drug commercial of the eighties "I learned it from watching you". I never told him I didn't move the sun that day. I suspect he already knew that. I also didn't tell him I felt like a super hero in that moment and I learned from him that day. I wish I could say that my actions from that day forward were the actions of the man I wanted him to grow up to be, but life saw a different direction to this story. One that didn't leave me feeling like a super hero at all. I'll save that for another story.