“Not sure they have hockey teams there, Peanut,” I joke.
“NHL ones, no. But AHL…”
I just about manage to contain my snigger at the expression on her face.
Man, I lucked out with this kid.
I was smugly informed the other day that Adrian’s team lost their first game this season, and he came into school on Monday like a bear with a sore head.
I feel for the kid; losing sucks. But if he’s going to make it further than his dad did, then he’s going to need to learn how to deal with it.
Losing is a part of the game. It’s how you deal with it that determines if you can be a professional athlete or not—something his father never learned.
I fear that the apple may not have fallen too far from the tree.
“Be the bigger person,” I remind her.
“I am. I only rubbed our win in his face a little bit.”
“Good girl. I know it sucks, but you’ve just got to grin and bear it.”
“Karma will get him eventually.”
Hopefully, karma will be a hockey stick to the face…
“Yep. You’d better go,” I say when the stream of kids begins to lessen.
“I know. I’ll be watching tonight after practice,” she promises. “And Friday.”
“Come here,” I say, reaching for a hug from my girl. I squeezeher almost as tightly as she squeezes me. “I’ll be back Saturday. Think about what you want to do in the afternoon.”
“Can we skate?” she asks, making me laugh.
“If that’s what you want. But we can do something else,” I offer.
“I’ll think about it,” she confirms before pulling back and swallowing thickly.
My own eyes burn as I watch her battle with her emotions.
“See you Saturday. Good luck,” she says before pushing the door open and climbing out.
“Love you, Peanut.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
My chest compresses as her sweet words float around me.
She gets halfway across the playground before she spins around and waves at me.
Once she sees me wave back, she takes off running and slips into the building.
I drive to the airport feeling like the world’s shittiest father.
We might have more money than we know what to do with thanks to my career, but that’s not what’s important.
I’d still do my job if I got minimum wage; I love it. It’s what I was born to do.
“Whoa, who pissed on your Fruit Loops this morning?” Linc says, dropping into the seat beside me as we get ready to take off.
