My son has been alive for more than 1,000 days. For the last 800 days or so, I have been the one to pluck him from his crib in the morning almost every time without fail. Unless I am out of town or walking the dog at the moment he awakens, which happens rarely, it’s me, coming in, picking him up, changing his diaper, and bringing him into our bedroom.
Yet over the course of these last 800 days, he has never called my name in the morning.
He calls for his mother. Every single time.
Even though I am the one who comes through his door 98% of the time, we still holds out hope for Mommy while simultaneously spurning me.
It sucks. Just once, I’d like to hear, “Daddy!”