Campbell looked so cute in her striped pants the other day that I felt a photo shoot was necessary. We started indoors, then headed outside.
I laid her on her belly in the grass, then realized this was the first time she had felt grass. Her emotions ranged from being puzzled to interested to completely annoyed.
So she's not ready for grass yet.
Is at Campbell's bedtime.
I sit in the chair in her room and feed her before she goes to bed. Russ sits on the floor and talks to me while she eats. She is swaddled up and normally starts to drift off when she's done eating. When she's done, he picks her up off my lap and pauses to let me kiss her sweet cheeks. As he walks over to the crib with her, he kisses her and looks at her. Sometimes he stops before he puts her down to whisper to her. He lays her down and smooths her fuzzy hair and kisses her again.
I know many people think their husband is the best father in the world. I know many great fathers myself. There is something, however, about the messiness of marriage that for me has highlighted what a wonderful father Russ is to Campbell. In the four and a half years we have been married, I have come to know his every weakness, his every fault. We have battled through issues too numerous to count and often relied on God alone to make it through this crazy business we call marriage. And despite the fact it has not always been an easy road for us, he has exceeded every expectation I ever had for what kind of father he would be.
So every night, regardless of what that day has held, I watch him put her into bed and think to myself what a lucky little girl to have him for a daddy. I know she will never remember these moments, but I forever will.
