Gracious me I am happy. I've been turning to Andrew for the last 3 1/2 years saying "These are the golden days. Someday we'll look back on this as one of the best days of our life together." And those gold-tinged hours just keep coming.
Because we have Aimée's crib in our room she has been waking up when the alarm rings for Andrew in the morning. Yes, between 5:15 and 6am, our little darling pokes her sleepy head above the rail and makes it clear she wants out. But who can really blame her? No matter how long his work day she knows she will have Daddy's attention in that morning time, nestled in a blanket playing on the bathroom rug while he gets ready for work.
She's as content as a toddler can be in one place, sometimes playing a little word game with animals on his phone, or perched on the counter holding the toothpaste as he shaves. Looking up, adoring him. Aimée knows that upraised arms will land her in her Daddy's embrace even when I know he's already running late. And when she has come back to me, we wave, the door closes, she is suddenly sleepy again. The excitement of morning has apparently gone with him, and I can tuck her back in bed to sleep some more. Something in this father love calms her. I can relate. Because the Father I trust and want to spend time with leaves me feeling the same way. So why is it that I rarely come to linger with Him in the morning?
