We’re getting ready for a wedding, and I am a hurricane of panic whirling around the house. Get the stroller don’t forget the burp rag grab extra diapers make sure the wipes aren’t dried out put on makeup bring the pump and a bottle just in case where’s the lightweight blanket does this dress make me look fat and above all don’t forget Sophie the African rubber teething toy, choice of discriminating babies worldwide.
In the meantime, Jake is dressed and ready to go, holding the baby in the living room and wearing a face that says, “Any chance we’ll make it by the cutting of the cake?” I could ask him to help me, but to let him in on the frenzy between my ears would be not only counterproductive, but ugly.
On what seems like my 49th lap around the house before departure, I catch the following out of the corner of my eye.
And I pause long enough to take this video and thank God for dads.