One of Emmett's favorite activities is the daily checking of the mailbox with Daddy. This used to be Micaiah's job, but after awhile, she seemed less interested while his excitement grew, so while she still gets to join them if she puts on her shoes, Emmett is there rain, snow or sleet (alright, the snow or sleet hasn't been an issue yet and we may have to hold him back when it is, but it won't be his choice, trust me).
When he hears the garage door opening, to signal the arrival of his Daddy for lunch, I can quickly hear the slapping of his pudgy hands on the floor as he races over to the door to greet his "Ba-ba!" And as soon as he is in Daddy's arms, he points to the nearest door, demanding, "Ma!"
My favorite part, though, is when they return. Emmett always has at least one piece of mail in his hand, which he promptly hands over to me. Then, one by one, Daddy hands over the rest of the letters, catalogs and bills while Emmett passes them on to Mommy. Mail delivery is truly his calling.
Yesterday, while cleaning the dining room table, I came across a letter that needed to go into the mailbox, so, with other cluttered papers from the table still in my grasp, I hurried out to the box to stick the envelope in. Emmett watched and hurried to see what was going on. He arrived to the glass door just in time to see me returning with papers (the ones from the house) still in my hand. The world may as well have ended. Did Mommy really just check the mail without her little mailman?!
I tried my best to explain that Daddy was still going to come home soon and he would still get to check it, but I don't think the concept is within the one-year-old capacity of understanding. Poor thing. I was a traitor.
Don't worry, when Ba-ba got home, the world was right again and my little man proudly handed over our weekly K-Mart ad. Whew. Disaster averted.
Who won't be making that mistake again?
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