"Look Alive, Daddy"

Baby Girl loves her Daddy.

And by love, I mean LOVE.

(Case in point: this is the face she makes whenever he's around):

He plays with her.

He loves on her.

He bathes her.

He makes up silly games for her.

And he always makes sure her skin is well-hydrated (even if it means getting inventive, like the day last week when he thought her scalp was dry, so he greased down her hair--I mean, head).

But despite his outward appearance of perfection, Daddy has one fatal flaw.

A failure to master the art form know to parents worldwide as: One-Handed Dining.

I mean, sure, he does a decent job at home when I have to pass her off for about 90 seconds. Mainly because I move everything out of striking distance without him noticing, and still warn him, "Look alive, Daddy."

But in public, things get a little sketchy.

Like today, for example.

We went out for lunch and Baby Girl sat by me in the booth for most of the meal, while I shared mushy-ish components of my salad with her (some peas, shreds of cheese...you know the drill), but eventually, when I was ready for a break, I passed her off.

Naturally, Daddy chose that particular moment to decide he wanted a bit more of his broccoli-cheese soup. And on his first bite, he drenched our beautiful firstborn. Mostly down her pant leg.

After the clean-up and containment, I kindly advised that it might be best not to eat any more soup until he passed her back. But then I made the mistake of taking a trip to the Ladies Room. And when I came back, Daddy was holding Baby Girl in sort of a funny spot on her chest.

"What?" he asked, barely containing his sheepish grin. "So I might have spilled a little tea on her, too."

At least he owns up to his weakness.

And claims he just needs a bit more practice.

:)

God Bless Daddies everywhere. They light up their Baby Girls' lives--stains and all.