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This summer, I will be in charge of caring for my little girl during the day.  I will be going solo, five days a week, for about eight hours each day.  It is an intimidating thought, even when I know that I am not the stereotypical “guy” that fears diapers and puke and baby tears.  (I rant rather violently about that here.)

Yesterday was a good test for me, though.  Erin had a date with some friends of hers, and we thought it would be a good idea for her to nurse Abby in the morning (as is her routine), then head out for the day.  I would watch my little girl, feed her lunch, get her bathed and dressed, and bring her over to hang out with the girls in the afternoon.

Daddy-Daughter dates are some of the greatest moments in my life.  It isn’t that I don’t love being together as a family with my wife, but Erin is always the primary care-giver when she’s around.  Abby, if upset, wants her instead of me, and I don’t blame her.  Erin has fed Abby from her body for the last ten months.  The best I can offer is a spoon.  So sometimes it takes my wife’s complete absence for me to really get a chance to be the centre of Abby’s attention.

Admittedly, some of that attention is bad; no one enjoys a screaming baby.  But it’s a small price to pay for bath time and long walks, trips to mall and cuddles on the couch.

I’m a lucky man to have that to look forward to.

This is how Abby and I share food. I like to think of it as good training for when she has to live with wolves in the post-apocalyptic future.