I Love You: In which woman discovers whe will never be able to compete with father.

“I love you, you, you!” screams G bear as she points to her dad. G bear has just recently started to use those words in reference to family members. Of course Dr. J noticed it first. “G bear told me she loves me today,” he mentions at breakfast. “Really,” I said, “she’s never said that to me.” “Well I told her first, so that’s probably it.” Probably it? Is the man insane? I probably just tell that child I love her twenty times in a day. She probably could respond at least ten of those times, but has she ever chosen to. Of course not! And thus begins what I believe to be the total unfair distribution of a child’s love for dad versus mom. While I may have been the one who:

made these babies,

baked them in my womb for nine months,

leached my bones to make them,

destroyed my hips to squeeze them out,

gave up five years of my life to lack of sleep,

feed them from my body,

smothered them with love and care,

dressed them,

feed them,

cleaned their rooms,

read countless stories,

brushed hair millions of times,

kissed a plethora of booboos,

who do they love the most……………..DAD!

If there was an unfair shake for woman for that whole Eve and the apple thing, I’m telling you that is it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they love their dad. I just wish they could love me half as much, and so I began a quest to hear her say it. Every time I said, I love you, today I patiently waited to see if she would respond. Finally right before dinner I said, “G bear I love you.” She was in her father’s arm and said, “I love you.” “See,” Dr. J said, “She said it.” But then she yelled, “I love you Peach.” And then she yelled at her dad, “I love you, you, you,” and each you was punctuated with a jabbing point on her index finger. Like I said…