Lilah has a little friend named Sammy, whom she has known, from preschool, since infancy. Long before babies are supposed to have preferences for who they drool on and squeal at and sit next to at snack time, these two were clearly delighting in each other's company.
Neither has ever looked back. Now, almost two years later, they call out to each other on the playground, gleefully chase each other around our house, giggle when the other one gives them that special look. They really are in love.
But apparently, they really are in love. Moments ago, I was lying next to Lilah trying to get her to sleep. I rubbed her tummy; I sang her a lullaby. But her mind was on other things. She kept patting the empty space on the other side of her and saying, "I want Sammy, right here."
Just last night, it was her dolly she was calling for. Tonight, it was Sammy. First thing tomorrow, I'm going to find out whether they make diapers with a built-in chastity belt. Meantime, Stupid Daddy is loading his shotgun.
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