I can boast of having one of the best coming-home-from-work experiences possible: after my three hour commute, sometimes through heavy traffic caused by not-so-sporadic roadwork, I open the door, late at night, to have my two little girls blitz from their bed room for a full-on tackle --
"It's Papa! It's Papa!" they chant as the hop up-and-down and up-and-down, much as popcorn would if it was a 5- and 3-year-old girl.
Recently, my dear wife has gotten a piece of this action. After watching 30 seconds of unending exuberance, she started jumping up-and-down and squawking a pitch-perfect imitation: "It's Papa! It's Papa!"
This display, of course, elicited peals of laughter from the girls, but, did it slow them down? Heavens, no! More bouncing and squawking ensued and they rang around the rosie Papa.
Now, if I can convert these weekly esctasies into daily ones, then I would have the best possible homecoming experience ...