Superhero
My daughter’s favorite toy was sick this weekend.
Her favorite toy is a superhero.
He doesn’t wear a cape, but he can fly her through air with the greatest of ease.
He doesn’t have ginormous bumpy muscles underneath his get-up, but he can carry a car seat with the babe inside AND my three thousand bags to the car at the same time.
He protects us from the evils of hairy spiders and stinky garbage cans.
And he can make her smile by just LOOKING at her.
You’ve figured out that this superhero is her daddy, right?
Yes. My husband was sick this weekend. Normally, I’d follow this statement up with a selfish eye-roll or a woe-is-me comment. But not anymore.
This weekend has made me SO thankful for the investment he has made in our daughter. He’s quick to help when my hands are full and she needs entertainment, he’s claimed the night shift when she’s screaming like the world is ending – which has been happening more frequently, thanks to two months of teething—and he is my right-hand-man when getting her ready in the morning.
So this weekend was a good ol’ fashioned case of “You don’t know whatcha got, ‘til it’s gone”.
He’s my superhero, too. Get well soon, honey.
