What can I say? By mid-afternoon Keeley is bored to tears with me. We get dressed, play puzzles, build blocks, change diapers, sort shapes, do laundry, eat, snack, watch Sesame street, go outside and play, color, eat, sit on the potty, do chores, … and so on and so forth. We talk about colors and shapes and names of things, and what we’re going to do that day, and what’s for breakfast. We work on words and phrases and try to build up her understanding…but….
When daddy gets home, he hugs her and kisses her and plays with her. They laugh, and she laughs at things I could do 10 times over and have her just stare at me for. Grr. He doesn’t have to enforce nearly as many rules as I do, because his time with her is shorter. He gets the big hugs and the happy ‘hi!’s’ and great big waves. Maybe it’s just because he is gone so much, or because he is more easygoing, but she is definitely daddy’s little girl.
This is not to say that I don’t hug her or kiss her or play with her. I do all that. For some reason, daddies just seem to do it better for her. More belly laughs, more ‘real’ playtime. She just has more fun. Maybe later on, she’ll appreciate me a little more, but for now, she’s daddy’s little girl!