It’s a name spoken frequently in our house. Bless her heart, this baby girl loves her dada with such a fierce love. It’s so awesome to see her excitement when he gets home from work, but also heatbreaking to see how much she misses him some days. Today is one of those days. She’s asked “Dada?” Probably 20 times.
Some days like yesterday, her mind thinks of him as her protector. She SCREAMED Dada at the top of her lungs over and over as I attempted to clip her fingernails. (I swear, why couldn’t God have made them only start growing after age 5 when you can actually reason with the child and explain that they truly will not feel a thing???). And as if Dada wouldn’t be making her get her nails clipped? She does the same thing if she gets in trouble- she calls out for Dada. Thankfully we are on the same page about discipline!
Other days she laughs his name when she has secretly remembered something funny he did. It’ll be a random moment where she just suddenly busts into laughter and then says “dada, dada!” Some inside secret between the two of them must be absolutely hilarious.
Then there are the mournful cries. Before she could even say “dada” we had moments where I could just tell, and now I know for sure. She has a mournful cry when noone but Daddy can fill the missing part in her soul. Today she was wanting to lay in her bed, so I picked her up, put her in, covered her with her blanket, and gave her her water cup. She rolled over to look at me, and just burst into tears. She had asked for him multiple times this morning. But in that moment, she just needed her Dada! I walked out and she stopped, and has since commensed playing and laughing with George, her stuffed monkey. But occasionally I hear her say “dada” as she talks to George and I know that tonight when Dada gets home, I’ll have the happiest little girl in the whole world because our family will once again be complete.