Father Daughter Dates

Over the weekend, I found myself tearing up during the bride's father's speech. It wasn't particularly emotional. In fact, I can't even remember exactly what he said.

But somewhere in the middle of it, I found myself imagining standing up one day to give a speech at little S's wedding.

When S was younger, she only went to kinder three days a week. The other two were ours.

She'd come with me to run errands, happily sitting in the trolley while we wandered the supermarket aisles or standing on a chair beside me as we prepped dinner. We'd reward a big Costco haul with a hotdog, and every now and then, if Krispy Kreme happened to have a promotion, we'd detour for a doughnut or two.

None of it felt particularly significant at the time.

It was just another Tuesday.
I'm just glad that, on this particular Tuesday, I brought my camera.

Now she's at school five days a week. Those little routines disappeared so gradually that I hardly noticed they were gone. I think that's the thing about parenthood. You don't always realise you're living the good old days until they're already behind you.