At least that’s what my daughter thinks. She refuses to even acknowledge the possibility that her future sibling could be a boy.
Note her use of distraction and the the way in which she turns every question into an opposing question. Verbal jujitsu at its best.
This is one serious case of denial.
My daughter loves dinosaurs and she loves music, so a combination of the two was inevitable, albeit slightly bizarre.
And very cute.
Tonight I am grateful for a stolen kiss, which wasn’t really stolen considering it was requested that I steal it.
After putting Clara in her crib, I asked for a kiss goodnight and she refused, which she does quite often. Instead, she typically latches onto Elysha and cuddles with her while Elysha sings her a song and I turn out the light and leave the room.
As I stood in the doorway tonight, ready to turn out the light, Clara said, “Daddy, come steal a kiss”, a phrase that I use from time to time when sneaking in and kissing her while she is busy doing something else.
It’s one of those moments I suspect I will never forget.
Tonight I am grateful to be called Daddy.
My daughter is three years old, so Daddy is probably safe for a while, but I know that Daddy will eventually evolve into Dad.
And while Dad is just fine, there is nothing like walking in the door after a twelve hour day of teaching and parent-teacher conferences and hearing your daughter scream “Daddy!” from the back of the house, followed by the scampering of her little feet as she runs to the front door.
A conversation between me and my three year old daughter:
Me: What’s in Mommy’s tummy?
Clara: A baby! A cute little baby!
Me: And when the baby is born, what will you be?
Clara: A big sister!
Me: That’s right. Will you help us take care of that little baby?
Clara: No, Mommy will take care of the baby.
Me: But Clara, big sisters can take care of babies, too.
Clara: No, Mommy will take care of the baby.
Me: If you won’t help us take care of the baby, what will you do then?
Clara: Play.
Oh sure. To you this looks like a little girl waving a toy broom at the camera.
But it’s not.
That toy box is actually a boat, one I was required to sit on for quite a while. The broom is a fishing pole. The floor is an ocean, the rug an island, and all those dolls on the floor are swimming.
And while I wasn’t thrilled to be asked to sit in the boat and row for what felt like an hour while singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, I couldn’t help but marvel at the imagination of my little girl.
Tonight I am grateful for the way Clara will grab hold of my the cheeks and pull me in for a kiss.
There will come a day when her kisses are decidedly less exuberant and significantly better aimed, and that will be a sad day indeed.
It’s not easy to record a video that makes your wife sad but also makes her want to watch it again and again.
These two videos accomplish this goal.
I love this photo of my daughter.
Taken by her grandfather aboard a NYC bus two weeks ago, I love how she looks like such a little girl and such a big girl at the same time.
