A little story

Not so long ago, a father and son performed a daily ritual. Well, a school day ritual anyway. The father would pull the car around the school’s drop-off roundabout, turn to his son and say, “Have a good day. I love you.”

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“I love you more,” the son would reply. 

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“Plus two,” the dad would say.

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    “Plus four,” the kid said, every time.

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“Plus 17.”

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    “Plus 283.”

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“Plus 4,952.”

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    “Plus 37,205.”

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“Plus 14 million and five.”

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    “Plus 149 billion and twelve.”

 

And so on and so forth, through ridiculous made-up numbers, unto infinity and beyond.

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“Infinity plus two,” the dad would say. This was the signal to the boy that, sweet though it was, the stalling tactic had reached its conclusion and it was time to go to class, and time to go to work. 

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One day as he drove to the office, the father reflected on the fact that work was kind of like parenting. It’s challenging, it’s rewarding, it’s often frustrating, it’s never perfect, but if your heart is in it, you give it everything you have, and then a little bit more.