"About what?" I deadpan, facing him under the canopy of trees.
He laughs, wiping sweat from his face while smiling in a most beguiling way.
"I mean, what do you do all day?"
"Oh," I smile, "I hang out with my 4 year old daughter."
Che's out of school for the summer, relishes our new house and is grooving on Mom and Dad and, while that works great with my schedule, Sarah's occupied with a full time job, our teenage daughters and managing our dreams and schemes.
So I mostly hang out with Che with no structured activities, which is where I excel.
We do everything together, meaning we sit around a lot, cuddling, coming up with things to do, ranging from watching endless hours of "A for Adley" to seeing the sun rise sitting on her swing set.
We play tons of imaginary games, Barbie, build forts, swim, play hide-n-seek, find new playgrounds and sing lots of songs. I like making up new words which drives Che crazy, changing Elsa's "Let it go" to "Let it blow" in Disney's movie "Frozen" which we've seen 287 times.
Sarah spends lots of time with Che too and, whenever they're away, I'm a little lost without them. Don't get me wrong, I find things to do, but most of my energy, which is limited these days, remains focused on my wife and daughters and there's just not much left for much else.
We're hunkered down together, equally amazed at what we've survived and the blessings we have, seeking joy in each moment, daring to make short term plans, and hopeful for time.
Che's taught me not to worry about long term plans. The only thing we should concern ourselves about is "what are we going to do now?" so we make up lots of things we're playing as we go. There's rarely planning, imagination's required as we make realities our of nothing. Magic unicorns appear behind Pine trees. Little girls really can transform into Wonder Woman! Of course we can fly! There's also tons of hugging!
Atop a Castle Tower in a playground, Che asks me to lift her for the fourth time and I sigh.
Lifting her three times has worn me out and I have to sit for a minute.
"One more time Dad!"
Struggling to stand, I wobble, find my footing and sigh.
"I'm sorry Da," Che cries, her face is crushed.
Summoning my energy, I rush to her, asking with a smile, "What're you sorry for?"
"Making you hurt," she answers with moist eyes.
Swinging my arms around her, laughingly we hug as I throw her to the ground yelling, "Not hurt enough to do this!"
Happily, slowly and painfully, we hold hands, Che talking the entire way about us having a "Battle Royale" as we make our way home.
Sarah asks how things went but as I tell her I see her eyes narrow.
Whatever I just said was unintelligible.
She tells me so and I sigh.
Her phone rings so Sarah dashes away to field a work call while Che and I collapse on the sofa. She watches television while I stream music through ear buds and stare out the windows.
"Truly I tell you," Jesus said, "unless you change and become as little children you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven" and I wonder why this verse pops inside my head.
Maybe it's because I spend so much time with our four year old daughter.
Perhaps I'm in training for the Kingdom of Heaven and she's my coach.
I don't know.
But I do know that I want to do it again tomorrow.
