…when I feel protective as a church member takes Noah out of
my arms to hold him.
…when I don’t hesitate to catch Noah’s spit-up in my hand as
it hurtles towards the nice church member’s wedding outfit.
…when I eat lunch at my desk so I can get out of work close
to on time to rush home to see my little man.
…when I tear up at children’s Sabbath because I know the “hope
for the future” the pastor is talking about is Noah.
…when I hop up at 4:45 am because Noah’s fussy and Lyndsie
has declared, “It’s your turn.”
…when I find myself hanging on every coo and smile from the
little guy.
…when I’ve shown my coworkers four hundred different photos
of Noah all because they’ve asked me how he’s doing.
…when I struggle to identify which picture of him is my
favorite.
…when I send pictures to everyone at a state-wide volunteer
meeting that I’m remoting into.
…when my heart swells with pride as the people attending
that meeting declare, “Oh my gosh, he does look like Josh!”
Yup, it looks like I’m a dad. Weird.
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