A Thousand Words (really just 450) is Worth a Picture

My sister graduated from Grad school last weekend, so I went to Virginia to celebrate with her.

When I got home Sunday afternoon, Loralai was really happy to see me. So much so that she wouldn't take a nap.

Actually, she had been giving Ashley a hard time all weekend.

So, as a last ditch effort, I was asked to take her out on the porch so Ashley could get some sleep.

Loralai loves the hammock. She seems to really like the way the wind blows in the leaves on the trees, and the chirping of the birds. She gets this look in her eyes. It's an awesome thing watching a little one experience something for the first time and try to make out what it is. So you just watch. I didn't say a word. I just made sure the hammock kept swinging and the wind kept blowing and the birds kept chirping.

Loralai calmed down a bit. She laid down on on her back on my chest and just listened. She was so tired from not napping that she didn't know if she should sleep or wiggle or cry or laugh, so she just lied there, still, listening.

Now, just so you don't think I'm a loon, I don't know what Loralai was doing. She could have just been in a stupor. I like to think she was thinking, taking it all in, relaxing. But it's possible she was just tired.

At any rate, Ashley was inside sleeping, as were the dogs, so I didn't have a person to take a picture of what happened about 15 minutes into the hammock ride.

Loralai fell asleep.

She fought it, as most babies do. She kicked and whined and fussed and spit her pacifier out. And I let her. I just made sure she didn't wiggle off my chest. I gently held the pacifier in her mouth and didn't say a word.

This is what I think Ashley means by quiet confidence. Calm love.

And when she finally relaxed, she turned her little head to the right, still suckin' on that "pacie," and went to sleep.

Now, I don't know how many guys read this, but if you do, and if you've never had kids, let alone a daughter, there's nothing like it. No wave, no river, no cliff, that can give you the rush that you get when you look down and see your infant daughter fast asleep on your chest.

For that moment, I was her rock. She's never felt safer in all her life. She trusts ME.

This little one doesn't care about my past, she just knows that right now, this person is not going to let anything bad happen to her. And it's not conscious. It's instinct.

I surfed today. No comparison.