By the time we flew home, Eric was suddenly Father of the Year: offering to carry car seats, diaper bags, anything.
At check-in, the agent handed him his boarding pass and paused. “Oh, sir—you’ve been upgraded again.”
Eric blinked. The sleeve around the ticket had a message scrawled in bold black ink: “Business class again. Enjoy. But this one’s one-way. You’ll explain it to your wife.”
I recognized the handwriting instantly.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Your dad didn’t…”
“He did,” Eric muttered. “Said I could ‘relax in luxury’… at the hotel I’ll be staying in alone for a few days. To think about priorities.”
I burst out laughing. “Guess karma does recline fully.”
As I boarded with both twins, Eric trailed behind, sheepish, dragging his roller bag.
Just before we stepped on the plane, he leaned over. “So… any chance I can earn my way back to economy?”
