As I listen to rocketship and airplane noises from the next room, I’m somewhat tempted to make sure noone is flying too high or at risk of a crash landing.
When I see my husband using one of his manly hands to hold our son under his arms, I sometimes wish he would use the other one, too (just to be safe.)
I confess, there are times when I have to stop myself from hovering or from telling my husband how I personally have found diaper-changing to work best.
And when I turn around to see Ellis on his Papa’s shoulders, I find myself automatically gravitating towards my men, getting my hands ready to catch my son should he somehow slide from his castle-high throne.
My husband tries (and succeeds!) at teaching our three-month-old all sorts of tricks I would deem him still too little or young for. But I’ve also realized that little boys don’t grow into the type of brave, young men I hope my son will someday be simply due to the tender love and care of their mothers. It would be a shame if fathers were forced to be mommy-like and forbidden from being the wild-hearted men they truly are.
There are so many things I want my son to learn that I cannot teach him, so I’m learning to let Daddy be Daddy. And I’m becoming more grateful with every day as I witness my boys be wild and loud, silly, fun, and so very different than Mommy.