THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE DIAPER PAIL.

THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE DIAPER PAIL.
A local author's life with two little ones and a book just out from Random House called, you guessed it, THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE DIAPER PAIL.
About geralynbrodermurray


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April 19, 2008
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Daddy's boy.
I admit it. Sometimes being the favorite is kind of nice.

For the past four and a half years, I've been my daughter Reese's favorite person (known around the house as F.P.) Don't get me wrong: she adores her father the way I only dreamed my daughter would. They read, they play ball, they dance and cook and tickle and are often partners in crime; I find them doubled over with laughter about something neither can articulate and when they do, I still don't get it. Nevertheless, when the chips are down, it's Mama that Reese wants and wants now.

Well, the tide is turning around here lately with Mr. Finn, my eighteen-month old son, who since birth seemed to like both of us just fine, thank you very much. It was always he/she who held the Sippy cup ruled Finn's day. Until recently, at least. That's when the Daddy bus pulled up front and center and continues to hold court full time. What do I mean, you ask?

Yesterday, Reese, Finn and I had to drop something off at Chris' work on the way to a fun kid thing we were doing; we pulled up in front of the office. When Finn saw his Dad it was like a tourist seeing a soap star walking down the streets of Santa Monica - shock, awe, joy radiated from his mega-watt, eight-tooth smile. He couldn't believe his good fortune.

We gave Chris what he needed and said our goodbyes, pulling away from the curb, Chris waving goodbye, knowing he will see us in just a few hours. Finn on the other hand, was already in mid-emotional flight, skyrocketing to the other end of the  spectrum, sobbing, heaving with sadness and rage. Pulling at his car seat straps, tears and snot running freely, nothing I say to him in the least bit comforting.

It is then that I realize my little F.P., my little Finn Patrick, has his own F.P. - his own Favorite Person. And it's not me.

I have to tell you though, it's only a little bittersweet. Mostly it's just sweet. My heart fills for these two who have each other, for our family who is so lucky to like each other this much, during the moments we're not driving one another crazy. My heart fills just for the sake of filling I suppose, because I have them and together our cup is overflowing.
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posted by geralynbrodermurray on Tuesday, May 20, 2008 at 10:48 PM
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2 comments from 2 users

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posted by creatress on May 21, 2008 at 11:32 AM
That's really sweet that they're so close like that. In our house, we've always had our roles. Dad was #1 for playing. I'm #1 for food, comfort and owies.
posted by hmoeckli on May 21, 2008 at 05:24 PM
My daughter likes both of us, but she is definitely a Daddy's girl. Sometimes I'm frustrated that I can't calm her down at night as well as he can, but mostly I'm so happy that she has a father who shows her affection and love, something I never got from my biological father.
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