Our friends have a theory that, sort of like a gosling will follow whatever it imprints right after it hatches, their toddler imprints which ever one of them happens to go into the nursery first thing in the morning. Some days, their kid is all about dad; other days, he only has eyes for mom.
They may be right. Around here, this was the weekend of Greg. Baby C wanted nothing to do with me. Unfortunately, her vocabulary hasn't kept pace with her fickle preferences. Sitting in her high chair, she cried "Mama!" I rushed to her side, only to have my arms pushed away. She held up her chubby hands to Greg. "Mama! Mama!"
"I'm Daddy, honey," he said as he picked her up.
"Mama," she said back and snuggled in. He shrugged, clearly thrilled to have been chosen. Let's hope he's as receptive to the label around 2:00 this morning.
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