Gotta love Dad

As much as I vowed never to be the wife that hands her husband the fussy baby the moment he walks through the door so that SHE can get dinner finished, I totally am. But, the good news is, I happened to have married the best first-time dad there is. Amelia is going on her seventh tooth, which means that towards the end of the day, she's not all hugs and giggles. However, here's a quick little story that I hope I never forget:

I pulled one of these evening hand-offs, as described above, yesterday. I handed Grant a fussy little Amelia and took off downstairs to take care of laundry (sooooo important, right?). As I walk upstairs, I hear a now-silent Amelia, and Grant saying, "ya ready? Ready?" Before I could begin to imagine what stunt they were performing, Grant whisks by in front of me, bent over, shuffling backwards down our hardwood hall, holding onto the end of a blankie. Next Amelia's happy, round face and dimples, two teeth poking up and three whisping hairs slides by grinning at me. He'd propped her up on a pillow on the other end of the blanket, and was giving her a quick tow down the hall. As you can imagine, this was followed by some cackling. What would I do without him?