He was going to a neighbourhood near a store where I had a credit, so I mentioned to him he might stop in to see if they had any new leggings for her.
He has never been nervous to shop for tampons or diapers or lingerie, or anything else. He had to learn his own identity, the fit of his own skin, at a young age to survive. He has complete confidence without a trace of arrogance.
It was no big deal to him that he knows the right size, and that he knows she would prefer the ones with the ruffles.
The delight in her face upon returning from school to hear Daddy had bought new tights. She has always been like a comet - a neutrino - one friend says, and she hurled herself at him with joy.
This morning he taught her how to vacuum the floor, and I heard him, as I stood in the bathroom, guiding her around, encouraging her, placing into her with every movement the skills and time and love I see whole generations lacking.
To him it is just what you do. This is what real men do, this is what Dads do.
"That's it! That's how you do it! Good job, Eleanor! Good job! That's it, just like that."
That's right babe. Just like that.
Photo by Wade, taken after he had sung Eleanor to sleep.
1 comment:
I really enjoyed reading this. Something about you knowing how to write about your husband and him knowing how to be who he is. It felt like a complete thought.
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