Life With Clay

I was coming down the steps into our living room Sunday night, when I looked up to see Clay up to his elbow in a good scratch. Without going into great detail, let’s just say that the warm weather brings with it increased irritation in certain regions of the body that don’t get as much air as other parts.

While gazing at this vision, I neglected to put my foot on the last step and wound up face down on the wood floor with a crash so loud our neighbor Frank probably heard it. The book I was carrying landed across the room. My wife rushed out to see what all the racket was about. Satisfied I hadn’t broken my neck or damaged the floor, she went back to her computer shaking her head. I helped Clay straighten his pants and headed to the patio to enjoy the cool evening air on my red face.

For the next hour, the little guy kept walking by my chair and kissing the top of my head. Sometimes, he put out his hand to touch mine or just stood next to me like he had something to say.

My wife saw all of this and decided to get Clay’s iPad.

“Do you have something you want to say to Dad?” she asked.

“glad you are ok,” he typed.

The shoe was on the other foot. The little guy was worried about me.