One night last week, Taylor called to tell me he was on his way home from work. I hung up the phone, turned to Noah, and told him, "Daddy's on his way home!" I remained on the couch while Noah wandered into the kitchen. I heard him whimpering a little and went to see what was wrong. I found him trying his best to reach the doorknob to open it and find his Daddy in the garage. I told him that Daddy wasn't home yet. So he turned around, gave me a sad little look, and then laid down on the rug to wait for his Daddy.
I finally got him to leave the kitchen and go to the window in the office to watch for Daddy to come home. I pulled up the blinds and there we sat, until that familiar red car came into the cul-de-sac. Noah saw it, exclaimed "Daddy!", and ran for the kitchen. I know Taylor loves having Noah run into his arms as soon as he walks in the door, and I love being able to see that. This boy truly loves his Daddy.