primary bread person

The boybean and the Bloke have a fantastic relationship. Thats good. In fact its great, fantastic, wonderful, precious. It's so special to watch those two play; the bean squeals, cuddles, kisses, blows rasperries, hides, talks, all with an incredible sparkle in his eye when he looks at his Dad to check out if his behaviour and actions are pleasing. Its a revelation to me that look. Dads 'It'. The Main Man. Mr Love. When we're all together, he chooses Dad when he's fallen over and banged his head, when he wants a story or to play a game. I didnt realise I could feel this conflicted over two peoples love for each other. When I kissed them both goodbye this morning, having fun at breakfast with books and jokes and the bean pre-empted my departure with a wave, a finger point to the back door and a broom broom noise, my heart fell out and rolled across the floor. I came to work this morning with a rather bitter taste in my mouth. Primary bread winning, although it gives me a whole lot of intellectual freedom and exercise and some decent dosh, is making my heart just a little sore.