Last night I was
making out with my laptop working on my computer while the girls fawned all over their dad in the living room. They were being unusually angelic, snuggly, and cute. They smelled good too, since I bribed persuaded them to shower with me so I wouldn’t have to deal with baths after the crankies set in. Is there anything better than a sweet-smelling child? You lean in for a whiff and suddenly all the baby days come flooding back in a rush. You know the ones: the house is quiet, there is no talking back, no hitting, no fighting. Just snuggling with a warm bundle of joy who chomps on your nipples until they bleed looks lovingly into your eyes while you coo and fuss over him/her. The baby days are some of the best because babies are mute, immobile, and incapable of grating on your every last nerve.
But I digress.
It starts innocently enough. Abby is giving Hubs quick little pecks all over his cheeks, nose, and mouth. She is giggling. Hubs is trying to read a medical journal, but he finally gives up and starts tickling her. Her laughter is infectious. I’ll have to try and capture it on a vlog sometime. Anytickle, Abby begins sticking her tongue out at Hubs and the usual reprimands ensue. Then I can almost see the wheels start to turn in her head. Her tongue comes back out and she licks Hubs’ cheek. He laughs, Abby laughs, we’re all laughing. Then more wheels turning, and she asks with a sweet smile on her face
“Daddy, can we touch tongues?”
I look at Hubs and carefully ask, “Did she just say what I think she said?”
“Yes she did,” Hubs replies.
Dear God, I know I’ve been a bad wife lately, but seriously, if my own daughter is trying to move in on my man I know it’s time for me to step up my game.