Saturday. In our room. With our baby. Sam talking to me.
Sam. “I had the worst dream about her last night.”
Jessie. “Oh gees, do NOT tell me if it was something awful, like her dying.”
Sam. “No, worse. She went to bed looking like that,
and when I got her up the next morning, she was an inch shorter than you and talking like a grown up. I know she was exactly an inch shorter because in my dream I measured her. I couldn’t believe it! I was devastated!”
I know a lot of people aren’t very interested in the baby stage. They’re excited for their kids to walk and talk, to have a less one-sided relationship, to stop being so incredibly needy. And rightly so. Babies are a lot of work with very little payback. Clara is going through her 3 month growth spurt, and after a long night of no sleep and some very sore ta-tas, this morning I threatened to send her to boarding school.
And I sort of meant it.
So I am thankful to be married to a man who L-O-V-E-S babies. His sadness at every new milestone that our daughter hits is endearing, to say the least, and says a lot about his tender heart.
(Somtimes I need that reminder.)
So when I tell him that Clara rolled over and have to start the sentence with, “I have some terrible news,” I smile with pleasure at the joy he takes in every moment of her childhood. If his worst nightmare is that she’ll grow up when he’s not looking…then consider me smitten.
|Amelia Jayne and her Uncle Sam “He’s my favorite favorite favorite, mommy.”|