Babykins

"Hey Babykins," I call to Maddie as I have done countless times before. She is, after all, the baby of the family, and at 3-years-old it's a cute little term of endearment.

"Don't call me Babykins!" she replies, "I'm not a baby anymore, Daddy."

Maddie can't wait to grow up. And you can see it in every little thing she does. She feeds herself, what little of it she chooses to eat. She wears her own shoes, although once in awhile, she slips up and gets them on the wrong sides. She wakes up at night on her own to take a pee, and she wipes her own poo.

In fact, she so self-reliant that she's all but ready to move out on her own and never look back. And that breaks my heart just a little. Yes, yes, Daddies are supposed to learn to let go, but she's three I just need a little more of my Babykins just a little longer.

"Can't you just be Daddy's little Babykins for a little while more?" I pleaded. This was not looking good for me. This is exactly how Daddy get wrapped around their daughters little fingers. But alas, it was futile.

"Daddy, I'm a big girl now," she said as she looked earnestly at me, as though assuring me that Daddy's little girl is all grown up and that everything was gonna be alright. I was almost resigned to the fact that Maddie was never gonna be my Babykins anymore, when I remembered I still had a trump card up my sleeve.

"Ok Sweet Pea," I responded, "but how about Daddy bathe you now?"

"I want Daddy to bathe me," she squealed. And right there in the bathroom, we're back to being Daddy and Babykins once again. :)