One peaceful night, I was sat on the couch with my baby as we watched The Little Mermaid for what had to be the fifth time that week. Her curly hair laid out in a fan across my lap and the weight of her head on my thigh was both warm and comforting. Resting my eyes and stroking her baby-soft cheek with my thumb, I almost felt like I could fall aslee-
“Daddyyyyy, where is my paci,” my little one whined. Squinting and holding the bridge of my nose with my free hand, I prepared for the headache that was about to come. This conversation always went in circles.
“Where did you leave it last baby,” the sleepy in my voice making it sound rougher than normal.
“I didn’t have it, you had it,” she poked my thigh with one finger when she said “you” and then started drawing little circles in that cute way she does.
“No no, I told you to put it somewhere you’ll remember, since you’re always losing it,” I tried not to sound snappy so that she wouldn’t start-
“I want my paciiii,” she started crying.