Barnabas Monkeypants

This is a sappy one today, so if you’re one who doesn’t like all the flowery, gooey stuff, just look at the pictures and be done with.

Ready?

This past weekend, after Henry woke up from a nap, Kristen and I made a baby sandwich, which means I held Henry in my arms, Kristen wrapped her arms around me, and we gave him kisses and made funny noises and got him giggling. (Baby giggles are really quite fun.)

After we got him good and worked up (right after a nap is always the best time for this) and smiling and flailing about, Kristen looked at me and said, “Before he was born, I never knew I would love this baby so much, did you?” I said that of course I knew I’d love him this much, but then I had to change a diaper so I forgot about the whole thing.

Well, late last night, as I was supposed to be finishing up the first draft of an extremely exciting slide deck I was writing, I instead began thinking of what Kristen said and about how she was right. The way I feel about Henry is  so different than I had expected, and it’s different than any other love I felt — from Kristen, from my family, from Francis (poor Francis).

I mean, I love Kristen a lot. I would do anything for her. (In fact, I once said that, if necessary, I’d beat someone up to defend her honor. Instead of her feeling proud and safe, she laughed at me. Obviously someone loves someone a little more than someone else. Not naming the someones. Wait, I’m confused.)

But I love Henry differently. Not more or less than Kristen. Just differently. Maybe it’s because he’s the fruit of my loins. (I love that saying.) Maybe it’s because he’s completely dependent on us to keep him going (ie, change his diapers). Maybe it’s because he can smile at you and you practically collapse on the ground because it’s just so amazing.

But I get this ridiculous feeling every time I see him, and when I get home from work, I’m practically running up the stairs so I can pick him up and hug him and play with his hair and make him laugh. I always knew that I would do that, but I never knew that I’d want to do that so much.

I guess that’s what I like best about being a father. Not actually doing all the things I love to do with Henry — playing and reading and giving him a bath — but the way I feel when I’m doing it.

Great, great stuff.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 12th, 2009 at 8:49 pm and is filed under Barnabas, Kristen. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.