Friday, December 18, 2009


Lola has begun to be a cuddler in these last few months.

The. Problem. Is. That. It. Is. Not. With. Me.

I still get a little knot of anticipation in my tummy every day at 4:30 p.m., as I leave work and begin driving to day care. It's that old familiar night-before-Christmas/vacation knot. That ooh-I'm so-excited-I-can't-stand-waiting-a-moment-longer knot.

And she rewards me: Lola sees me walk in the door and she runs to the front gate. No hugs. But she runs to me. That's cute, I guess.

I get her into the car and she screams the entire way home. Twenty minutes worth of "Maaaaamaaaa!!!!" and not being able to give her what she wants: freedom from the car seat.

And we get home. Where she whimpers until she gets a snack and some juice. Then I get a little sly smile. Sometimes, if she's extra cooperative, she wants to be picked up. And I can touch her for a full 7 seconds.

But then...

The pickup comes down the driveway. Her head jerks toward the front door, "Dada," she says, not asking me, but stating a fact. She doesn't move until he walks in the front door. Then, before Ray can even untie a shoelace, she runs to him, arms outstretched, smile enveloping her itty bitty face, "Dada! Dada! Dada!"

She reaches him, throwing her arms around his left leg, resting her pink, chubby cheeks against his kneecap.

And I find myself wondering if I smashed those knees in with a crowbar, would I maybe get a hug? If I locked him out of the house, would she run to me?

But then, comes a day that I work late. That I don't get to daycare before Ray does. And I approach the front door slowly, not getting my hopes up. And I peer inside, undetected, watching her sit on the ground playing with her "meow-meow" and her father. And she sees me. And she drops her toy and runs, taking a while four steps toward the door.

And I think, "Ooh, this is it!" and I brace myself for the small impact that is about to come...

But, no. She stops, raises a hand and waves.

She waves.

For the first time.

(Did I ever mention that Lola doesn't wave.) She can do it, but she won't. She's stubborn like that. Now she's a waving fool. Waving bye-bye at me in the car, waving at bedtime, waving at daycare.

But never at Daddy. Daddy doesn't get waves - he still gets the hugs.

- Bethany :)

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