Well, I was likely already That Dad, but now it's a certainty.
It took the better part of forever to find a day in January that Lil could come visit for my birthday, what with her work schedule and my work schedule, but it finally happened. Now, she needs to visit to delivery some presents for a baby in the process of being born as I type.
Yes, I soon will be a great uncle, just like Tink Coats was. I'm not sure my fate could be any more sealed.
But wait. Just hold on a minute. There's more. Lil called as I was standing by the baggage claim at RDU to see if she could come up this weekend and spend the night. Of course, I said yes, and we went on about plan making. Dinner. Trip to see Samo. Lunch. Fun stuff.
And then I woke up the next morning, reviewed my calendar, and let forth with a mighty, blistering oath. You might have heard it as it explains the failed snow of that day.
I have work scheduled for that weekend. Sigh. Too busy working to make room for a daughter to visit.
It took me the better part of the day to find the wherewithal to call Lil and deliver the news. I'll be working so she can't come. Yes, I'm that dad.
I suppose she'll forgive me. She did just text me a picture of her toe with an ingrown toenail freshly removed. There should be some hope in that, and the successful homegrown surgery. (I've dug out a thousand of my own.)
The question is will I forgive myself? It's been a veritable litany of excuses lately, each with good intentions, but none with resolution. Each, but one more step on the primrose path to Hell. Could it be easy? Just one day? Just one time? Surely that's not too much to ask.