I have to reluctantly begin calling Fat, Happy Baby Miss 1.  Alas, I must admit that when your baby goes walking around, talking, and feeding herself, the term baby might just be a little bit out dated.

So let me tell you what Miss 1 has been up to.

Miss 1 is crazy, head over heels in love with. . . . daddy.  It has become abundantly clear to me that she is simply tolerating me throughout the day, until the parent she adores arrives.  My Dear Husband is mauled with kisses and cries for daddy the minute he gets home from work.

This morning Miss 1 woke up and immediately began calling for daddy.  She was less than pleased when Mommy showed up to get her out of the crib.  By less then pleased, I mean to say that she punched me in the nose and yelled, “no! daddy!”  I took her out of bed, despite this chilly welcome, and as soon as her feet hit the floor she made a fast beeline for the bedroom door, behind which daddy was certain to be found.

Exactly what does Miss 1 see in daddy that inspires this fervent ardor?  Well, it became clear to me at Miss 3’s dance class.

She found this doll action figure, smothered it with kisses, and called it daddy:


No wonder she’s in love, right?

Apparently, in Miss 1’s eyes, Daddy is a super buff, “larger than life action hero.”

. . . . . As all little girls should see their daddies.

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