What is the best excuse for being late you have ever heard?

I glance at my phone. It's eight o clock, almost bedtime for my toddler. He splashes and plays in the bath water, oblivious to the tension I feel.
"Momma?" His voice ricochets off the shower's tile walls. "Come. Sit. Play." He holds out a toy helicopter that "glides" across the surface of the water.
I take it and play with him, trying to distract myself from the fact that my husband said he was going to be home late this evening, probably around seven, and it's an hour later.
I haven't tried calling him. I'm not a wife to call or nag. I know that if he needs something, he will find a way to get it. Or find a way to get a hold of someone who knows how to help him. Or, worst case scenario, he will get a hold of me and we figure it out together. But usually, he is just fine on his own. After all, he is thirty five years old, and can take care of himself.
If we were first married and he was this late, I would be calling non-stop, freaking out on him. But after ten years of marriage, and him being late nine out of ten times, I've stopped asking when he's going to be home. I just know it is between five and seven at night. If on the off chance he is home early, it is like a mini-celebration. But, we have this trust bridge. I know he's busy working and doesn't need me bothering him all day. And honestly, it is so much more stressful for me to worry about what he's doing or where he's at, so I really don't care, just as long as he is safe and sound, it's all good.
I glance back at my son as I run the helicopter across the water for the third time. He's smiling and dunking his airplane under the water, yelling for help from the "copter".
Thank goodness I have this little guy to keep me entertained.
A door slams. I know it must be the hubby because he's the only other one with keys to the house.
"Uh, oh! Who is it?" He shouts from the entry.
My little guy gasps. "Daddy?" He stage whispers. His eye brows are raised, his cheeks red from the warm bath water, and his hair is a messy, wet mop of curls. His eyes hold a sparkle that only a daddy can bring.
"Uh, oh! Who is it?"
"Daddy!" This time my toddler's shout comes loud and clear.
"Hesston!" His daddy shouts back.
They repeat each other's names until they unite with their nightly hug. It's the most adorable ritual, and all my anxiety melts away as the two of them embrace. All is right in the world again. My little family is all under the same roof. Safe. Happy. Loved.
After the reunion, Daddy sits down on the floor next to me with a deep sigh. His arms wrap around my middle, followed by a wet kiss (also a nightly ritual) on my cheek. I squirm and pretend to be grossed out, but really, I love his affections.
"Sorry it took me so long to get home." A pause. "First, I had to go to the office and pick up some paperwork, then I had to deliver it to the rig manager, then I had a safety meeting, then I had to pick a guy up and give him a ride from the rig to the airport, which took longer than expected, and I had some reports and emails to catch up on, so I took some time doing that, then I had to pick up some stuff from Walmart, and then finally made it home. Not all in that order, but you know what I mean, I've had a busy day."
It's true. He's been up since four in the morning, going from the time his feet hit the ground. I don't know how he does it all, still managing to come home with energy for me and the little one. If it were me, I'd be passed the point of walking. I would be crawling to the bed, pleading for everyone to let me sleep.
His reason for being late is always a little different, but consists of his day's accomplishments. I can't complain. I won't. Because, even though he's late, he's home. And he gets to be home every night. And he works with wonderful people. Wonderful people he loves and respects. He loves his job. It's custom fit for his personality. It has been the biggest blessing in our lives, because not only has it brought a wonderful living, it has rewarded us with wonderful people we get to associate with. The thing we've learned about living and working in North Dakota is, it's the people that make it so great.
I remember Ted telling me that no matter where you live, you will always find good people. It's just a matter of what kind of people you're looking for and surrounding yourself with. This statement has always rang true, and we cherish every friendship we've gained from our different moves.
So no matter the reasoning for being late, it's always good. Legit enough to make me just be thankful for a husband who works hard. Who understands the responsibility of being a provider, and is blessed enough to have a job that provides for his family so I can stay home. Each and every day, it's a reminder to be thankful for those we love and to cherish them. Because it's always better to be late than never.