Counting and Melting Hearts

Last night I heard my 18-month old daughter count to 10 for the first time. She's a genius. OK, so she skipped from 6 to 10, but still. She just jumped from not counting at all to counting to 10. I'm no expert, but I think that's pretty impressive. She grabbed a box of manila envelopes and dumped them on the floor, then picked them up and started counting. She's partial to the numbers 1 and 2, of course, and repeats those ones over and over while she holds up her index finger. Her fingers aren't sophisticated enough, yet, to show me all the numbers she's counting, so I count by holding up my various fingers while she holds up her single finger. Last night I followed her lead and we counted together. She would get to 6 and then say "ten, yay!"

Even more amazing is that when I got home from work and sat down next to her on her miniature Pooh couch she grabbed my thumb and started pulling me around the house. Running to the window. Running through the kitchen. Running to the blow-up mattress on the floor. Running back to the couch. Sitting down. Getting back up and running around again. Both of us laughing the whole time. It was amazing. That's the first time she's actively pulled me around as if to say "Daddy, I want to show you something. Come on!"

The thing that makes it particularly touching for me is that I just got back from a 4-day business trip and had a lot of fear about how she would react to me being gone that long. Would she be sad? Would she be angry? Would she be distant when I returned? It's the first time I've been away from her for so long. I talked to her everyday on the phone, but I know that a 10-minute phone call just isn't the same as in-person one-on-one time. So when she grabbed my thumb and pulled me around the house, it just affirmed that our strong bond was still intact and that nothing had changed.

I was still her Papa and she was still my little Buggy Bear.

-t.