Yesterday, I decided to be spontaneous and take the boys to a matinee showing of “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” Arriving early at the mall, I figured that we could kill a little time in the bookstore.  As a result, we parked on the bookstore side of the mall (i.e. the other side of the mall from the movie theater) and took a serpentine path through the mall to the matinee.

Since it was a 4:30PM Saturday showing, I planned on returning to the bookstore, after the movie, and then back to the car. Pop culture, print media, light exercise, the boys would get it all.  This dad was on fire.  When the movie ended, we headed back into the mall toward the direction of the bookstore and our car to be met by a big metal gate.  An imposing and impenetrable metal gate.  The rest of the mall was closed.  We were adrift and carless on the other side of the mall.  Informing the boys of the bad news, we set out on our journey around the outside of the mall by foot.

As we walked along, the boys were a continuous series of statements and stories. Some exaggerated (“I once ran twelve miles-per-hour”) and some sincere (“I liked the ‘Amazing Spiderman 2’ better than the ‘Ninja Turtles’”), but nearly all of them began with a crucial phrase, “Hey, Dad…”  It was a bit exhausting to hear the three of them compete and stumble over each other for the next sentence, but they were so earnest in their desire to talk to me.  To let me know what was on their mind.  To be noticed.  To be special.  To be loved.

It was there, during the long hike around the mall back to our car, that I was reminded of the three young blessings that accompanied me. I was surrounded by love.  A constant stream-of-consciousness superhero-pumped-up verbal-combat kind of love.