DADWAGON

I worked late tonight, and left the office at 8, dragging myself home and feeling a little like Don Draper (without the promiscuity, alcoholism, or secret past). My wife called me as I was headed for the elevator, and noted that my son was still awake, but that he’d be asleep by the time I got home. “I don’t want to make you feel bad, but he’s saying ‘dada, dada,’” she told me. (Tried to put him on the phone with me, but as those of you with toddlers know, that doesn’t work until late.)

Well, that’s new. He was very late to both “mama” and “dada”–a lot of words preceded those–and although he spends plenty of time fretting and crying for his mother when she’s out of the room or otherwise occupied, he has not, till now, called for his dad. So I swallowed my guilt, and made my way home without rushing–didn’t take a cab, stopped for an errand on the way.

And turned the key in the lock, and heard, from the bedroom: “Dada!” He wouldn’t sleep till I got there. We spent ten minutes playing, and then he went down for the night.

This is wonderful beyond compare, and also portends a big problem. I’m in the office late two nights a week, with little flexibility. If he’s becoming aware of that, I have no idea what to do next. Maybe change his bedtime?