Her Old Man

I was 40 when my daughter was born, which means she won’t have the youngest of fathers among all her friends. I like to think that my age and experience will serve her in many instances – that I’ll be the Solomon of the new dad set. There may be occasions, too, when I will be tired before either of us would want. That was the way it seemed tonight, at least, when we determined that the most interesting and fabulous activity in human history was being pushed around in a laundry basket full of folded towels. Daddy managed a few transits around the living room furniture, with baby laughing all the way. At the end of each circle, the pause before prompting grew shorter. But then I had one of the most powerful ideas I had had in a while. “Hey,” I said. “Do you know what’s really fun? Having mommy push you around.” And it turned out I was right.