Daddy's Home!

Each day when Hubby comes home from The Daily Grind, I stop what I am doing, run to the door, and greet him happy squeals of "Daddy's Home! Daddy's Home!" He gets a big hug and some sugars. The cats and the dog join in the commotion making all kinds of happy critter noises. It is the highlight of his day and ours. This has been our routine for as long as I can remember. Yes, we call each other "Mommy" and "Daddy" even though all our "children" have fur.

I started the "Daddy's Home!" routine after a conversation with my father. He told me how he never felt as though anyone cared whether he came home or not. He related a story about how he had returned a day early from a two-week trip. (I actually remember this incident.) He opened the door with a bright smile and said, "Hi honey, I'm home!" Mom looked at him rather annoyed and replied, "What are you doing home early???" His smile faded and he stammered that he finished up sooner than expected and they let him go home early. His shoulders sagged as he dragged his suitcase into the house. Mom turned and went back to what she was doing. That was one helluva welcome home.

As I thought about it more, nobody ever greeted him with a smile or a hug; not me, not Mom, not my sisters. I can understand why he felt that way. Poor man, it's a wonder he ever came home at all.

I decided right then that I would not be the wife my mother was. I will greet my hubby at the door with a smile and a hug whether I feel like it or not, whether he's coming home from work, returning from a round of golf, or after running errands for a few hours. I do this because I *am* happy he came home. The world is a big, ugly place with evil forces that can keep my baby from me. One day he may not come home ever again.

I also figure that if I don't welcome him home, some other female surely will....and I'm not talkin' about one with paws.