Today I left my baby with Grandpa for three whole hours. Our longest stretch apart so far. I snuck out the door and didn't even say goodbye to the kids. I didn't want them hugging me because I didn't want to get hand prints on my clothes. I didn't hold Elijah after I got dressed because I didn't want to risk spit up on my shoulder. I was a little concerned for Grandpa, but he assured me, "I'm not afraid of him." So I left.
When I came home he was crying. The baby, not Grandpa. I found out he'd only cried half the time and he'd smiled a bit. So I'm not sure if the few seconds of smiling outweighed the 90 minutes of crying but I really appreciate Dad's help. We'll see how soon he's willing to help again, maybe not for awhile...
Doesn't that smile just melt your heart?
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