Girl Terror loves, loves, loves her Daddy. She cries when he goes to school, she waits and watches out the window for him to come home. She loves to read with him, snuggle with him, and in general, she wants to be just like him. At times I have been jealous of this devotion, but yesterday I witnessed a sharing moment that made me grateful I am second best.
We were all in the living room and Girl Terror was bouncing around. Suddenly she stopped, reached out her arm, and placed one finger on Hubby's leg. She pressed her little finger into his knee, and simultaneously tensed her body, and scrunched up her face. I asked "Whatcha doin'?" Even though it was painfully clear. "I pooping!" She grunted. And still the finger was connecting her to Daddy. Hubby gaped at her, apparently frozen in place. It was one of the creepiest, grossest moments I have ever witnessed. When she was done, she took her hand back, and resumed dancing. I am soooo glad she does not feel the need to have this connection with me. He can have all the poopy sharing moments he wants.