Mothers & Daughters
Jeff and I were lazy parents last night. We stuck the kids in our bed, put on a movie and decided they could just fall asleep without teeth brushing, stories and songs.
The two of us sat on the couch together; no computers, no kids. It was nice. We talked.
Jeff told me about how sweet Lily has been with him lately.
The night before, when he tucked her in, the two of them lay side by side in her twin bed and reminisced. He told the story of the night he fell in love with her, in her lilac room in our very first house. She was a few months old and crying in her crib. He went it to console her and she looked up at him, smiled and he melted, as only a father can.
He told her of the time when he’d been away on business and came home and she was so happy to see him that she cried tears of joy as she hugged him close. She teared up and cuddled with him, remembering that feeling. They traded countless stories and laughed and dozed off together.
She’s been amazing, lately, Jeff said, his voice shaking. Fathers and daughters, I sighed.
He looked at me, expectantly.
She told me she hated me four times today, I contributed.
Mothers and daughters.
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