It's Father's Day here this weekend, so I thought I would share a snippet relating to a father and son from one of my books. I had a little trouble choosing, so I might share another next weekend, but for now, here's a snippet from The Sorcerer's Guardian in which Loriot comes home after a few days away and sees his son, Alain. (I went over six sentences this week—sorry, but I thought the extra sentences were necessary this time.)
Trudging up the stairs took the last of his energy, but he forced himself to bypass his own bedchamber. He couldn’t go to bed without seeing Alain. Not after so long away, not even if it hadn’t been that long. The door to the room at the back of the house was partially open. He peeked in as he pushed it open the rest of the way. The room was tidy, except for a veritable city built of blocks in the middle of the rug. The nursemaid noticed him first, but Alain wasn’t far behind. He looked up, his bright green eyes—twins of Loriot’s own—lighting up, and Loriot felt something inside him melt, just as it always did under those eyes.
With ease of long practice, he caught the five-year-old bundle of energy that came flying at him and swung his son up into his arms, cuddling him close for as long as Alain would allow. As tired as he was, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. “There’s my boy. I missed you. Show me what you’ve been doing.”