Xoe likes to do this thing where she goes over to the edge of the bed, kicks her feet out from beneath her, lands on her butt, and bounces off the bed onto the floor. She loves to do it. Lots of times. As she does it, her mom, who has seen the trick on many harder things, ignores it as if X is simply walking. You see, my wife has realized that Xoe will hurt herself, and when those moments arise, Xoe will learn not to do that again.
On the other hand, I find the need to spend countless hours spotting her like she was an Olympic gymnast flinging her frail little body around the parallel bars. She's gonna fall! No. Caught herself. There! No... You see I want to be there when her hand slips so I can levitate from the ground and cradle her in my arms as we float safely back to earth.
Yes, part of me wants her hand to slip... There, I said it. It's not like I want her to get hurt, but I want to catch her, hold her, and protect her. And the fact I only get a chance to watch her fall maybe 5 hours a day and on weekends mean I need her to slip more often when I am around so I can get my Super Dad Fix. Ahh, but my wife gets to be around Xoe for the hours I spend at work. She gets to be there the first time Xoe fell down the steps. MDW was there when our former dog bit X. The first time X slipped in the bath tub, she was there. My wife will probably be there the first time a boy breaks her heart.
Ugh, the agony. But this is what I must do. I must go to work to feed and house my family, thus giving up my dreams of super heroism when X tries to pet her first wasp. My satisfaction lies in knowing that when Xoe grabs a knife and cuts her finger, at least the woman I love will be there to comfort my little girl...
That still doesn't make me feel any better. Over the weekend as I was trying to watch Xoe play on a Roz's farm, I told Jamie, who was visiting from Atlanta, about how hard it was the first time I went with X someplace and she wanted to play with someone else. Not me. I had been used to being the center of X's world, and she, one and half at the time, was ready to move on. As Xoe disappeared from my view, Jamie commented on how hard is must be for me to not actually being able to see Xoe now. I almost motioned to get up to see Xoe, but then I thought, "I have a problem."
Yes, I already miss the times when Xoe's world was me, her mom, and our little house. But I know Xoe's world will probably be bigger than mine, as it should be, and she will probably find it faster than I could have dreamed, as I dread. I must accept it, and live with it. And I will.
I know I will overcome my overzealous tendencies.
Cause I know something. Something illustrated this very morning. A deep fog had covered the land around our house, and as I walked to work, I heard a little voice rising through the air like Catherine to Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. It said, "Daddy... Daddy..." Xoe was on our deck, still in her pajamas, calling for me. At that moment, only daddy would do. I now know I don't need to be superman, saving her from the world. I just need to be daddy, when the nothing in the world will do.
