Benjamin loves his Daddy. And I don’t just mean “He’s my dad so, of course, I love him.” I mean he ADORES him. This has got to be the single most heart-breakingly precious thing I have ever witnessed as a mom. It crushes me.
When Daddy comes home, there is no one else in the house that exists in Benjamin’s little world. He must immediately be held by Daddy. And if you take too long helping to make that happen, he will fling himself out of your arms and crawl as fast as his little chubby legs will take him straight over to Daddy. If the dog was in the way, he would choose to crawl over or through her. Luckily, she’s got an ounce of self-preservation left in her and gets the hell out of the way whenever she sees him coming.
Benjamin is never so happy as he is when he’s with Daddy. Daddy will hold him in one arm and Benjamin will put his tiny, closest hand to rest on Daddy’s shoulder and just beam a little face that says, “Look! I’m with Daddy. And you’re not. But I am!”
And don’t you think this only runs one way, my friends. Nosireee. Husband digs this just as much as Benjamin does. He claims The Swimmy was like this, too, but, nope. Not this bad. Daddies and daughters will always have something special – no two ways about it. But there is something equally as powerful (but different) about Daddies and their sons – their little buddies. Or, in our house, Little Sport.
I don’t know whose face I enjoy watching more near dinner time. I don’t think it matters.
The weather could be shitty (like today), I could have a raging head cold (like this week), work could be going 1000 miles an hour (like usual) – but seeing the two of them together makes it all drop away. A little moment in time I get to peek in on like a loving voyeur. It’s almost more fun being the observer than the participant.
I still have no idea what to do with a boy as he grows up. But I sure am enjoying the lessons – one sneak peek at a time.