Anyone who thinks it's good to be the Parent Of Choice - just try it for a whole weekend straight. The other parent sits there helpless to intervene as all stories must be read by you. All carrying must be done by you and all putting to bed must involve your touch. Betsy loves me right now with an oh-so-exhausting love. I am the sun, the moon and the stars. I am incandescent with my own wonderfulness - and about to torch out completely.
Her nap time comes and for a blindingly quiet hour and a half I drool in a corner. And contemplate all the work I'm not doing. Add to the strong preference for mama, the fact that Betsy's bedtime rituals have all hardened up into things of formal beauty and I am a droningly repetative POC. Attempt to skip over bathtime and a sweet ringletted moppet grabs your fingers and drags you to the bathroom saying "baafff?" Try to shorten the time spent reading books and she begs "boooook?" for an extra story on the way to her rocking chair to sit and sing. If you fail to sing a favorite song, though she's lousy at telling you which one she wants, (I don't think I've taught her names for them all yet) she'll patiently snuggle up and say "again??" until you guess and sing the right one. Yes, I'm breezing over the upset if you can't figure it out. So sue me.
I love her to pieces. And if she doesn't decide she loves her father more than me soon, I'm going to die.
Posted by karen at August 23, 2004 12:12 AM