[This is the first of several entries which were started, stalled, and left to moulder in the basement. This entry was started in December, 2005.]

One of the hardest days of my life was the first day of work after having been home with Ian for the first few months of his life. It hasn’t gotten any easier to be away from my family during the day, but pictures, cards, and scribbly, scrawly drawings help to keep Ian at the forefront of my mind.

I’m glad to do it. I’m thankful that Kelly is able to stay with Ian; what better gift to give my wife and son? Though, some days Kelly might prefer a sweater. Still, it can be difficult.

Last night, Ian was being his naughty, two-year-old self. And, as was his due, I sat him on the Naughty Step. Sometimes he sits with resolve, sometimes reluctance; this time he just cried. And cried. When the two minutes were over, he kept crying. I gave him a hug, and asked, ‘What’s wrong, honey?’

‘I don’t like Daddy.’

I frowned. Well, considering he’d just been punished, no surprises there. ‘Why don’t you like Daddy?’

And between sobs and gulps of air, Ian looked at me, eyes wet with tears, and said, ‘Because Daddy goes to work.’

I drew him closer into my arms, and didn’t say anything. Kelly – who knows me very well – spoke over her shoulder, ‘Oh, don’t fall for it.’

Too late.