Kids gone to school at 7:30 am.
Maxwell and I leave Shawnee, Oklahoma at 7:35 am.
Thanks to 18+ hours of cartoons and movies in the "Maxwell Stuff" folder on my computer, my son was quiet as hell for an hour and a half, then fell asleep for an hour, then woke up happy as heck and ready to see mommy.
Dallas, Texas at 10:45, then leave the hotel at 11:15.
Food, then home at 2:45, just in time for a small bit of rest before I pick up my youngest daughter from the bus stop.
My wife is home, my son is happy, and everything is alright.
About an hour ago I was washing my son and, worried, I told him, "Hey, Maxwell? I know that mommy's home and everything but ... pllllllease don't hate me now that she's back. You push me away for her and you treat me mean and I just ..." but I stopped, figuring that this little two year old boy just wouldn't understand the words that were coming out of my mouths.
He grabbed my hand and said "I like you, daddy. We still fwends."
I hugged him.
Things are good.