Puff Daddy (or is it P. Diddy?) said it best

A couple days away with "the guys" wasn't exactly what I expected.

The problem wasn't the company; I was accompanied this weekend by two guys who love sarcasm and sports, so suffice it to say I was comfortable. The problem also wasn't the activity; watching early-September college football in person is better than the crisp fall air, Thanksgiving and pumpkin spice lattes — combined.

The problem was that I missed my wife and son more than I ever imagined I would.

Don't get me wrong; it's truly important to get some "Just dad" time once in awhile. Otherwise my one or two favorite pastimes that bring me great joy would quickly fade into oblivion, not unlike Nick Cage's bank account or LaDainian Tomlinson's chances of being called the greatest running back ever.

That said, we had only been on the road for about four hours when the thought hit me: "What is [Crazy Toddler] doing right now?"

At that exact moment, there's a fairly good chance he was carefully spreading some sort of meat sauce all over his high chair. Or chucking his sippy cup at the TV. Or coloring the ottoman. Pick a frustrating option.

But I like to think he was sitting in his Elmo chair, chewing on a disgusting toddler cookie (does Mom the Shopper hate him or something?) and laughing his butt off at a completely unfunny moment in his "Peter the Rabbit" video.

I returned this afternoon from a junk-food-heavy, football-driven trip that lived up to its billing. Awaiting me were work, writing, bill-paying, a continuous cycle of chores and overall day-to-day doldrums.

I also came back to a supportive, beautiful wife and stud of a son.

It was a good day.