I've been thinking about blogging about how much I love and appreciate my husband, but have been hesitant because I don't want to get too personal/gushy in the blog-o-sphere. So I won't.
One of my many neurotic fears is that when Dave is running late it's because he has had a massive stroke. Because, you know, he's a prime candidate. Really, it's just a residual fear from the accident--I don't really sweat it. Anyway, Dave puts the baby to bed at night--well, I nurse her to sleep, and he comforts her after she wakes up and cries (you know that last scene in Fatal Attraction where Glenn Close springs up out of the bathwater? it's kind of like that. only more developmentally appropriate). About five minutes ago I realized it had been a long time since he emerged haggard but victorious from the nursery. Said stroke fear crossed my mind as I opened the door and saw sleeping baby in crib but no Dave. I looked down and found him lying on the floor, snoring next to the crib.
I'm not sure if this illustrates my point well, but I don't know what I would do without him.
5 comments:
Maybe posters of Snoring Dave will replace those of Bare-Chested Man Cradling Infant in dorm rooms across the country!
oh that's a hilarious thought.
We totally had that poster hanging in our dorm room! Right next to the one of the Diet Coke guy. Remember him?
My niece will be heading to college in a couple of years. I'll buy her one of dave!
That is so sweet!
He had to go and do something sweet like this huh? He just had to do it!
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