Fact: For four years and ten months, I was the preferred parent. If there was whining, it was directed at me. If there was bedtime, I needed to be there to nurse the baby to sleep or read the stories. If there was hunger, I needed to make the food.
And then, like the winds changing in Mary Poppins, everything switched.
Ellie likes Nic.
The week of Christmas I photographed two weddings and Nic stayed home with the kiddos. Further time off during the holidays has compressed this magical fact: Ellie wants Nic.
When I rock her at bedtime she chants “Da Da Daddy. Da Da Daddy.” When he comes in the room she reaches her arms out to him, ready to be held by him. When we were both on our computers and she decided she was done playing and wanted to start pestering, HIS was the leg she was crawling up…HIS was the ear she was whining in.
“She just WHINES at me.” He says.
“Welcome to MY life.” I say.
And then I do an obnoxious “She likes you best—sucks to be you!” happy dance.
Nic has been off for the past three days and it has been the best most glorious vacation. Will and Nic play their fun boy games, and Ellie wants to be right there. When she’s whiny and needs a nap, Nic rocks her and feeds her a bottle. When she wants to have a party at 2am, Nic takes it and then I take the kids in the morning. Or I take it and Nic takes the kids in the morning. It’s been like there’s two of me.
It’s like a Christmas miracle.
