daddy is the cool one

I spend almost every waking moment with Clay. Simply a result of me working from home, I am the one that feeds him, reads to him, plays with him, rocks him to sleep. But it’s Scott who makes him laugh.

I hear every cry (and run to comfort it), I clearly have much more patience with the board books, and (if nothing else) I am the one with the boobs. So why this injustice?  Why does just a look from his daddy cause Clay to instantly smile – even after a day of tears for me?

Ironically enough, I am learning the lesson we will someday teach our son: life is unfair.

-Eleanor  

Note From Scott: Can you blame him? When I look in the mirror, I smile too.