Your vocabulary is growing. Every day you repeat a new set of words.
“Where sissy go?”, “I pick up”, “Hole me”, and “High five!” are among the favorites.
But the word you say the most is daddy.
It is the first word you say in the morning, even when I come in to get you. For awhile, every adult you saw was daddy.
If you hear a loud car driving, you always think it’s daddy coming home. You smile and walk to the front windows repeating “daddy, daddy, daddy” all the way. If you fall and get hurt, you guessed it, daddy.
You spent the night with JoJo the other night & she gave you a bath. You got scared and started to cry. JoJo said you cried out for daddy.
The best is when I catch you being sneaky. Trying to climb onto the kitchen counter, opening the pantry door, or throwing toys in the trash. When I smack your sticky little hand, you cry as if the world is ending and yell for daddy whether he’s home or not.
It’s pretty much your default word.
You might think I’m jealous.
I’m really not.
Most of the time I find it endearing. It warms my heart to know you love your father so much. Rightly so. He throws you in the air, cuddles with you on the couch, and lets you and Neala eat mac-n-cheese for breakfast. (Mommy doesn’t let you do that.)
You know your daddy loves you. That he will scoop you up with his big strong arms and comfort you, talk to you, spend time with you.
Yep, he’s a pretty great father.
Last year was tough for me.
The demands and pressure that accompanies four small children has, at times, given me feelings of overwhelming sadness and anxiety.
Funny how God uses small, seemingly insignificant things to speak to us.
The other day when I heard you cry for daddy, the famous lightbulb went off in my brain. I needed to cry to my “daddy” for help more than I had been. I needed to lift up a prayer to God, my Heavenly Father.
Your constant call for daddy reminded me of what should be my default. The last few months I’ve been so caught up in all my responsibilities. I neglected to do what I absolutely know to do. Call for help.
I could keep thrashing around in the water, barely staying afloat. Or I could cry for daddy to pick me up and throw me in the boat.
He won’t get tired of my calling for him, and won’t ignore me.
Because He is always ready to scoop us up in his big strong arms and offer comfort.
Yep, he’s a pretty great Father.