This morning, I sat on the floor with Charlotte in my lap, putting her shoes on before she and Allan left for the day.
She stood up and I asked if I could kiss her goodbye. She blew me a kiss as she walked toward the door.
Then she came back to me, bent down, and kissed me on my lips.
I had to hold back tears. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life.
And those sweet moments are what I knew nothing about when I was terrified and pregnant.
I also thought I was going to lose Allan when we became parents, but I didn’t. Instead, I got to watch him grow as a man and as a father, and got more of him to love. We’re such a team now in ways we weren’t before.
Last night we commiserated about Charlotte’s new phase – she screams when she’s displeased about something. Screams and squawks and it’s awful. But it’s just a phase, one with an ending (I hope). So last night, Allan and I laid in bed laughing because she sounds like some sort of deranged dinosaur. The annoyance at her screams brought us together, made us stronger in a weird way.
Just so you don’t think we’re awful parents, we also often lay in bed and marvel about her sweet face and intelligence.
(But we laugh at her a lot, too.)