Take-your-mom-to-work-day is right up there with birthday for me.  I never miss it, though it doesn’t come round that often.  (I’m the one that insists it comes round.)

I got to go a-surveyin.  Jordan surveys properties, shoots invisible guns, and carries a machete.  Who wouldn’t want to see that action?

Mom wants to!

But if dad were here, he would trump mom.  He would be the mom on take-your-mom-to-work day.  And no one would challenge him.  No one would remind him that he’s not the mom.  And this mom would gladly defer.

Dad loved his boys, loved what they do, what they ate, what they wore, all their hobbies, and all their friends.  He made their business his business.  (Not annoying.  Not annoying.)  They were his phone call, his plan, his next outing.

I got to go on take-your-mom-to-work-day.  I got to be the mom.  We both thought of Dad and knew he would be bonkers to be beside his boy.  But this time, I got to be the mom.