First, Auntie Cathy dropped by in the afternoon to take babygirl to one of my nephews' hockey games. As I watched them leave, Cathy packing the baby in the car seat, I felt suddenly anxious. The unrelenting cold and snow of the past week have made for atrocious driving conditions. What sort of irresponsible parent lets his baby get spirited away to face exposure to the harsh elements and the hazards of driving on icy streets, not to mention the shrieks and bellows of an arena full of irrational hockey parents?
Well, the moment soon passed. There's nobody I feel more comfortable leaving the baby with than Auntie Cathy. And later on, when my wife and I went out for a most enjoyable dinner and drinks with some people she works with, we left the baby at home with Cathy for more cuddle time.
When we got back, we found our little daughter nestled snoozing in her godmother's arms, an empty bottle nearby and an Oilers game on TV. Cathy, who loves babies in general and really loves this baby in particular, had even given her a bath.
So what was the deal with that strange moment of anxiety? I've never felt anxious before this, even when the baby spent an entire night away from us. My wife, on the other hand, has had several such moments. But now that our parental roles have reversed, it seems that our respective rates of parental worry have also flipped. Now I'm the one pacing about and wringing my hands, while she looks on with amusement and says, "Just relax, she'll be fine!"
I'm starting to think that if my testosterone level drops any further, my hair is going to grow back.
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