Payoff

          " Hello ?"
          " Um, yes hello, this is ( Random Boss Name )."
          " Hey, RBN, what's up?"
          " You work a double shift tomorrow right?"
          Uh Oh, I know where this is going already. " Um, yeah."
          "So (Random Co-Worker) only has 4 shifts and you have six, she was wondering if you wanted to maybey have tomorrow morning off and just come in at 3:00 instead" 
            This is the part where I am supposed to be overjoyed at the prospect of having the first six hours of my oncoming double off free and clear. I am supposed to enthusiastically shout ' Aw shucks boss man, ain't that a peach, well I sure do appreciate that' . But no, I have to work 40 hours to make ends meet. 6 hours means 60 some-odd dollars that won't be gracing my paycheck this week, if I would have maybe pushed a little into over time take that time and times it by half. That doesn't seem like a lot until three days until payday the cars on E, one of the two babies is out of diapers and my wife only wants two things in the world, Cheetos and Ice cream. So instead I say ;
            " Nah, I need the money, I'll go ahead and work both of my shifts."
            Boss is family kinda man too, totally understands.
            " Alright I'll tell her { that no matter how bad you want to steal his shift } that your going to work."
            " Cool man, thanks."
            And that's how the fight started. Thirty minutes later she leaves mad because i love my job much more than i love her or the kids. I know what your thinking, but it was what you were going to work anyway, right? Doesn't matter I had the option to give it away. Total insanity I know but ' I am woman hear me lose all control when I misinterpret intentions.' So she leaves me to watch the kids (15 month Tasmanian devil and 1 month old cushy siren). Right after she leaves I call boss back and have to re neg on the keeping by shift, I swear to got he snickered like he was in the room watching me getting pwned.
          So I'm in the middle of baking bread, holding crying infant, yelling at toddler to quit climbing up on the stove because yes it it hot and yes it will leave a scar you can show off at thirty. Fifteen minutes later bread is finally in, and baby is calm enough to go into her vibrating chair and I proceed to get myself into a nasty game of ' I chase you then you chase me'. We had gone up and down the hallway full throttle for about fifteen minutes, with a few sudden surprise scares from Daddy around the unlikely corner or out of the dark room. When, as has only happened a few glorious times in my parenting life, time seemed to slow to a grinding halt, and my child did something truly beautiful. We had made it back to the kitchen, I was crouched a little ways behind the sofa awaiting the attack. Around the corner he crawled carefully watching for any stalking Daddy's, he's a smart one my son. When out of nowhere I pounce, tickles flying out from nowhere like cobra strikes, BAM!  knee squeeze, BAM! BAM! both sides. Out of breath we both sit down across from each other when time stopped. I sat Indian style, and he assumed this little yoga posture, Both feet flat against each other, back steel strait, hands resting lightly on upper hips. I could begin to describe the face he made except to say it was angelic. In that moment, maybe 5, 6 seconds at the most, everything was OK. His eyes met mine and seemed to say, thank you young man, for being my Daddy.