|She calls me "Dada."|
Each day Hannah and I pick her up and take her over to the three family portraits hanging in our living room. I point to Hannah and say, "Mama." I point to Abigail and say, "Abby." I point to the picture of myself and say, "Dada."
This morning we were goofing off on the bed. I lift her high up in the air and act like I'm going to throw her into the pillows. Actually, I just ease her down quickly so she gets the rush without the possibility of harm. As she buries her face into the blankets and sheets she giggles and laughs. Its enough to make me want to ask the boss for a day off. Today, after we'd had our fun, I rolled off the bed to get my things together to go to work. I stood up and that's when she did it. She looked up at me, rolled back on her butt out of her four-point stance, raised her right hand towards me and said, "Dada."
At that moment in time I knew that my little girl recognized who I was and wanted me. She didn't want me to go to work, she wanted me to play. It's hard to pack up your things, hop in the car, and spend another day at the office after something like that. There's magic in a moment so pure and happy where someone so small calls out to you to be with her. She's growing up so quickly. I'm just glad I get to experience these moments with Hannah and Abigail.