I don’t get anywhere near the time I’d like with my daughter. We have, to say the least, rather divergent schedules. For a while I was getting her up in the morning, but my schedule is demanding that I get up earlier, and she’s not so happy about that. This morning I got lucky, though.
This morning after the alarm went off, I heard the “tonk tonk tonk” of little feet running to the bathroom. I put on my robe and peeked in, to find my kiddo sitting on the can smiling. She was up and ready to chat (when she’s awake, she’s talking).
“Daddy, why don’t you cuddle me at night anymore?”
“What do you mean? I always cuddle you at night, it’s just that last night you were asleep when I got home, so you don’t remember.”
“But what about the night before that?”
“We cuddled, don’t you remember?”
“Oh, yeah, but what about Monday? You didn’t cuddle me.”
“Sure I did, I just got home late and you were sleeping.”
I think I’m going to start leaving her notes on her bed telling her I was there and cuddling. Still, it’s not as good as the real thing.