Yesterday was a working day for The Au Pair (and not the Au Pair, there’s a distinction to be made). I took a lovely morning nap that turned me into someone other than The Bitch From Hell (another distinction). As I was waking up (I’d promised to make lunch), I heard, “Go, go, go” followed by other various repetitive phrases and I knew.

A few months before a friend’s dad left us, he graced our modest collection of books for the kids with a selection of Dick and Jane tales. The Au Pair found them and was sitting at the kitchen table sharing them with my children, my kids, who were sitting calmly around the table listening (and in some cases repeating) to all that Dick and Jane (and yes, Spot, too) were doing.

It was a magical moment for me, one I was happy leave for The Au Pair (who I think needed a few moments like that), undisturbed. And one where I got to reflect on the value of fathers.

While I know it was a gift, I consider Dick and Jane just a bit of a loan, to be passed on when the time is right. Thanks Fred. You aren’t forgotten.