There's no stopping Marshmallow Daddy

Did you think your husband was going to be a great dad early on in your relationship? I did. Dave is exceptionally warm, caring and fun. I had no idea just how nurturing, supportive and all-around amazing he'd be with Max. The two of them are best friends. Partners in crime, some might say. Dave will do anything to make Max or any of our kids happy—joy trips, rip-off smoothies, TV marathons. He has rightfully earned his nickname, Marshmallow Daddy. Me, I'm the tougher, limit-setting one otherwise known as Mean Mommy.

So it was no surprise the other day that Dave was torturing himself about plans with Max. A friend of his was in town and Dave had kinda sorta said he'd meet up with him. But Max had it in his head that the two of them were going to stay the night at Holiday Inn. Max was in between camp stints, and he likes to keep that vacation feeling going with a Holiday Inn getaway the night before he leaves for camp. We had set a bad precedent and by "we" I mean Dave; they've done this two times before. 

I was all, "No, Dave, go visit your friend."

Dave: "What am I going to say? Can you tell him?"

Me: "You are going to say, repeat after me, 'Not this time, Max.'"

Dave: "I can say I have to work!" 

Me: "Max has to learn that life does not revolve around him and that you have a life! Tell him you are going to see a friend!"

But then. Marshmallow Daddy. What went down:

"Hey, Max, want to come with me to New York City to see Brian?"

Max: [Does a major happy dance.]

So Dave and Max headed to New York, where they had dinner with Brian and his family. And then they crashed at my sister's house. Not quite Holiday Inn—I mean, few things are—but fun. And once again, Dave had done everything in his powers to make Max happy. And once again, I wondered about spoiling him. And once again, I felt grateful that Max has Dave, and Dave has Max.