Shallow Thinker

As life would have it, I am often the booming voice of discipline around our house.  Kelley does a wonderful job with the girls, but by the end of the day, they are all tired of each other and limits are being tested for everyone.  This is usually about the time that I come in the door from work.  Most times, I am able to quell the storms with calm assertiveness, but on occasion, I will raise my voice.  (The good thing about having two little girls is that the loud, deep voice usually does the trick.)

We’ve been having some trouble with our little Ladybug during the nights.  Her cough is finally starting to dissipate, but she is now in the habit of waking up during the middle of the night.  For the most part, she is able to go back to sleep, but around 5:00, she thinks that she is ready to face the day.

On Sunday morning, she came running into our room and made a bee-line for Kelley’s side of the bed.  Kelley picked her up, took her back to her room, put her in the bed, said sweet, motherly things to her, and then left her room.  I used my super-human sleeping skills to ignore the whole event.

At 5:15, I woke-up to see our bedroom door being pushed open by the little munchkin.  This time, she came over to me.  My mind was already trying to figure out just the right words to say and how to get her to stay in her bed for another couple of hours.  Should I go with the “mean daddy” routine or “comforting daddy”?  Do I promise her a wonderful tomorrow for being such a big girl, or do I make empty threats that I’ll never follow-up on?  But she spoke first:

“Daddy?  Will you cuddle with me?”

My daughter is almost 3, but she is far wiser than her father who sits happily at 30.  For the next hour and a half, I slept folded in her bed with her little body snuggled up as close as she could get to me.  I exercised neither firmness or discipline. I’m quite sure the rest of our lives will allow plenty of opportunities to practice those skills.  But in the wee hours of Sunday morning, my daughter appreciated me being there in silence.

My girls are young (Ladybug is almost 3 and Butterfly is 5.5).  They are also very truthful.  On Saturday morning, I was sitting in Butterfly’s room watching her and Ladybug play.  (Actually, I was refereeing their day-long fight, but that doesn’t sound as sweet.)  Then the refreshing honesty swept through the room.  Ladybug came over to me, and laid across my lap.  With the sweetest little eyes, she looked up an me and said:

“Daddy, you need a bath.”
“What?  Why do I need a bath?”
“Because you stink.  Blech.”

It was funny, but probably very true.  When I eventually bathed and got out of the shower, she proudly let me know that her opinion of me was unshaken.

“Go take another bath.  You stink some more.”