Skip to main content

Willow and the boy named Max

It happened in a blink of an eye.
A split second.
A moment in time.
I felt Willow slipping away.
My daughter, all 10 months of her, was playing across the room with a boy named Max.
The two were handing balls back and forth to each other, and after the boy named Max gave Willow a green ball, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
Yep, the big smooch-a-roo.
Right on the cheek.
Right in front of me.
Willow's first kiss.
The kiss caught the boy named Max's mom by surprise too: "Ah, he kissed her!"
She thought it was cute!*
I, however, had not-so-adorable feelings about the, er, encounter.
The boy named Max is two weeks shy of a year old.
He's the older man, the college kid nipping at my innocent girl's vulnerabilities.
I don't like the boy named Max, and his pompous moves.
Max is robbing my Willow from the crib, right from under my nose.
And I'm sure he's thinking about just plucking her from my grasp and putting her in the trophy case, next to the rest of his lovelies.
But I do have some hope the boy named Max won't steal my daughter.
You see, she didn't care at all for the kiss; she just took the green ball, thank you very much, and carried on with her little game.
Maybe this was ploy on her part all along, just offer up that cheek and let him kiss me, then I'll get the ball, AND I WIN!!! Bwa-hahaha!
Maybe Willow is the wily one.
All I know is I'm buying a shotgun ... no boy named Max is taking my little girl!

* Actually, this was one of the cuteness moments in Willow's young life. My heart melted.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

With baby comes packing (and a lot of it)

Willow, Che and I are traveling to see the grandparents, aunts, cousins and Mos (or is it Moes or is it Mo's or is it Moses?) in Henderson, Tenn., this weekend. And that brings up one of the big differences between being a couple without kids and being a couple with kids: packing for travel (they even have an app for that, God bless us packing-weary parents). Back in my pre-child days, packing hardly mattered, probably taking up 1 zillionth of a tenth of a percent of my brain capacity to do (six days equals six days of socks and underwear plus some T-shirts, some shorts, a pair or two of pants, put on some shoes, throw in some toothpaste, and I was off). That's hardly the case anymore. Take, for example, if you have a spit-up-prone baby. Do you take two burp clothes, four, eight or, maybe, 16? Better take 24. And how many diapers do you take? Or wipes? Do I need to take baby medicine? Is it going to be cold or warm or cold and warm or warm and hot then ... AACK!!! You get t...
2 comments
Read more

Willow's morning of play, play, play exhausts poor, old Dad

Willow's playtime universe continues to grow. Rapidly. Witness. In the midsummer heat, I take Willow out to our shaded backyard in the morning to play. And play she does. She climbed into her swing first. After I pushed her for a while, I got her out of the swing and put her in her wagon so she could help me convey bags of sand from the garage to the backyard to fill her sandbox (part of her new swing set) and her water table sandbox. She took rake and shovel and played in the sandbox for a bit. Then she waddled over to the deck and started to climb the steps to get to the water table. She played in the sand a bit, but most of her time was used dipping water up and out of the water part of the water table. Most the water ended up all over her. After that she wanted off the deck to go back to swinging. Instead I retrieved the new tricycle Cherish procured from a Franklin recycle center and cleaned it up. Willow loved the trike, holding on to the handle bars while I pushed her...
Post a Comment
Read more

Willow's tooth-brushing goes from rocky to rocking

Willow has been giving us fits for months now about brushing her teeth before bed. She's usually better brushing her teeth in the morning, meaning it's less like wrestling an alligator for me, but at night before bed, she turns into the Tasmanian Devil. We've tried making the tooth-brushing as fun as possible for her, but I usually end up holding her against her will while I try, mostly in vain, to pry the toothbrush into her clamped-shut mouth. Sometimes we give up. We've tried singing to her. Dancing. Story-telling. Tickling. Nothing has really worked. But Mommy might have hit on the solution. A singing toothbrush. Yesterday Mommy brought home a toothbrush that belts out Queen singing "We Will Rock You." This toothbrush ROCKS! And Willow loves it. We tried it out last night, and on the inaugural brushing, Willow brushed her teeth successfully all by herself. She danced the whole time too. And I stayed bruise free (I also, surprisingly, had more energ...
Post a Comment
Read more