My pic for Bridalwave
Keris Stainton‘s fortnightly column on married life…
I’m not sure when I first realised David was a crier. Now, I don’t mean he cries all the time or that he’ll sit sobbing when Chandler proposes to Monica (like I do: every single time it’s on), but our son does something cute or precocious and he fills up in seconds.
David’s always been worse than me for emotional displays around Harry. As I’ve written before, the day Harry was born, I was unconscious for most of the afternoon and only surfaced every couple of hours to see David, staring into the cot and snivelling.
Now that Harry’s older it’s getting worse. A casually dropped, “Love you, Daddy”, a particularly impressive painting (and by impressive I mean that the leaves on the trees are green instead of purple), an intentionally manipulative, “You come back for me?” and there’s David, sniffing away.
Even my family and friends know to expect it. Harry finished preschool this week and when I was telling my sister about his “leaving ceremony” she asked, “Did David cry?” He didn’t, as a matter of fact (I did), but he bawled like a baby reading Harry’s report. (Although, to be fair, the final line “You’ve come so far in such a short time. I’m so proud of you” got us both.)
And I love it. I do. I take the mickey and roll my eyes – particularly when, like the other night, David was damp-eyed over the fact that, when Harry’s 60, David will most likely be dead. Well, duh – but I love that he’s so emotional. I love his connection to Harry. I love that he’s not afraid to show his feelings.
And I hope that Harry grows up the same way. (No signs of it yet, though, he generally only cries to get what he wants.)