Foot in your pancakes

This morning I lifted my nearly 2 year old daughter off the dinning room table. Again. She was sticky with cream and strawberry ooze from the meal and from her table climbing antics. “You almost got a foot in your pancakes there Mike” was the commentary as I hoisted her across me and onto the ground.


In many ways this baby has been putting a foot in my pancakes for 2 years.


When she came I loved her. She made our family a team of 4, she was tiny and adorable and we were all very excited to meet her. She also cried and needed help to get to sleep, but was working on it. Then as a 3 month old she got Covid and that was scary. She slept worse after that and had a tough winter of ear infections and drool covered shirts - classic baby stuff really. She demanded a lot at a time when there was a lot to get done.


We took her away overseas on a work trip - she screamed a lot in a beautiful seaside apartment in France. I took 4 months of leave and we spent a lot of time together. Some of it was a grind. She kept changing all the time, growing and learning.


Yesterday as part of a regulation Saturday she and I danced in the kitchen. It started, as I was distracted while preparing lunch, with a cool smooshing feeling on my right knee. She had found a half avocado and was pasting handfuls onto my leg. I leapt theatrically and sealed my fate - the game was on. The music was fun and about love. The avocado seemed to yield endless handfuls. The chasing began and the merriment followed. She smiled and danced, I laughed and dodged. The dog followed the chase collecting lumps of half squeezed avo from the floor. There was a beautiful late morning sunlight. We looked at each other and grinned.


I always loved my daughter, however I now enjoy being around her in a way that is growing quickly. It’s a tempered, sustainable, evolving feeling of euphoria. Love, pride, happiness and gratitude rolled up together in a big familial experience. I’m very glad she’s here, even if she is stepping in my pancakes.