My Man

I just read Bibliomama's blog, and have been inspired by her post "A Real Man?". Like, Bibliomama, I do not put much stock in gifts and flowers (although a lump of chocolate is very much appreciated!). Any fool can produce a gift, but a real man does so much more.

A real man gets up at 5:30am everyday, and goes to work. When he arrives home, he overlooks the mess and the chaos, and makes sure that he keeps up the facade that his wife has had a "hard day". Despite not having to go to work herself. And being home. Alone. Sans enfants.

A real man helps make dinner. After the children had been fed, he ushers them upstairs where he proceeds to bathe them. He puts the children to bed. Twice. Because the first time didn't take. Then he comes downstairs and helps to clean the kitchen.

After all the work is done, a real man doesn't relax. He grabs a colouring book and crayons, and then colours a picture for his little girl. Because she wanted a pretty picture to give her teacher, and he had made a promise to her that he would colour something beautiful.

Then he colours another picture because he knows that when one girl gets something wonderful, her twin wants exactly the same thing. Then he colours yet another picture for the baby. So she doesn't feel left out.


A  real man understands how very important these things are to little girls. And he understands that this means more to their mother than a handful of flowers or a truckload of gifts. Thank God for real men!