Sometimes it’s really difficult for Eddie to make dinner with me underfoot.
I mean, I just want to hang out. And play. I haven’t seen him all day.
I want to see what he’s doing. What are you cooking, dude? What’s for dinner? Can I help?
But seriously, he is just too busy right now.
He’s already had a long, tiring day. And I am totally getting in the way of his throwing pots and pans all over the kitchen.
I’m sorry, he says, but someone’s gotta put dinner on the table. And then on the floor.
He tells me: I just need like 20 minutes. Then, after dinner, you can give me a bath and read my favorite book to me. Sound fun?
Someday, hopefully, I’ll understand. And appreciate all that he does for me.