“Mommy, tell me everything Daddy was good at that you’re not.”
And it has to be things I’m not good at?
Things exclusive to him?
That’s a tall order, kiddo.
My dandelion boy looks to me with anticipation, ready to take notes if only he knew how to write.
“Daddy was very organized.
He always put everything back where he found it.
He made great pancakes.
He made good decisions.
He took good care of people.
He could fix stuff really well,
and he could build anything.
He paid our bills on time.
He took care of Mommy.
Even better than I take care of myself.”
And then I added, even though he didn’t ask,
“But I taught Daddy how to throw a really great party.
And I taught him how to plan an excellent menu.
And I taught him how to work the room.
And I taught him not to wear black with navy.
And I taught him Facebook.
And I taught him how to give a compliment,
and I taught him how to receive one.
And I taught him to laugh more.”
“Oh. So you were good at stuff too?”
“Yep. I still am.”