Ficly

Jameson

I pull into my driveway exhausted after doing my 3rd ten hour shift in a row. Man my job sucks. I trudge mindlessly like a zombie into my house and set everything down on the kitchen table.

Suddenly, the sound of little quick-stepped feet reverberate through the floor signaling my arrival didn’t go unnoticed. I hear the sounds of “Dada Dada” being joyishly shouted in the livingroom rapidly approaching my location in the kitchen.

My son enters the cold floored kitchen with arms held high and a smile so wide you’d think it would hurt to hold it as long as he does. “YAY” he shrieks as I lift him using his momentum to swing him around in the air. He wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes me futily trying to wring the life from me.

I smother him with dry kisses and tell him how I’ve missed him very much and tickle his sides pulling even more laughter from him. It’s amazing how much you can love someone so much even though they havn’t been around long.

I squeeze him till he turns red and we laugh. My boy.

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