Diana's 'Daddy dance'
A few months back, I wrote about how Diana was completely besotted by her father. Obsessed, worshipful, devoted and utterly enraptured with him. That was then.
Well, things have changed. Somehow, D is even more adoring of her father nowadays and we've entered what appears to be a permanent 'Daddy phase.' Insert any over-the-top adjective that's synonymous with the word 'adoring,' multiply by 10 million and maybe you'll have a slight idea of how completely and utterly smitten this child is with her father.
In fact, you might say the behaviour she's been displaying most recently is verging on crazy-obsessive stalker who's stolen her hero's underpants (quite literally, in our case - D loves dragging Daddy's boxers around the house).
Honestly, I didn't even realise how out of control things had gotten until last week. Sure, I've caught her gazing at him before, worshipfully, at times over the past few weeks. It's very sweet - she just looks at him wide-eyed, smiling and waiting for him to tickle her or play a game. It's also very amusing because D picks the moments when Daddy is recovering from a rough night out to look at him in awe (I'm giving him lots of looks then, too, but mine are rather less flattering).
She's also been doing this celebratory 'Daddy came home dance' for several weeks now - it involves stamping her legs up and down, jumping around and then giggling effusively before screaming 'DA!!!!!!!!' and running for the closest door or trying to hurl herself down the stairs in an attempt to reach Daddy. Usually, it's completely adorable and merely saying the words 'Daddy dance' has D marching in place.
Well, it was adorable. Until we were at our friend's house, with many other toddlers and their parents in tow when Daddy - momentously - arrived. D started shrieking, doing the dance, then bolted out of my arms and hurled herself at lightning speed towards the door, threatening to take out any child (or adult, for that matter) in her path.
I'm not exaggerating. D was pushing small children out of her way to reach her father. It was mortifying. (Thankfully, toddlers her age are still quick to forgive).
Other than the budding violence issues which need to be curbed before they get any worse, the lovely relationship developing between Daddy and D is amazing to see, and Diana's father now has lots of D-devoted activities in his routine. He likes to watch cricket with her (miraculously, she stays interested), is teaching her to throw a ball (early preparation for the cricket training D will start aged 2 if Daddy has his way) and they love to go for walks together.
So I really don't feel resentful at all about still being second-rate in our household (even though I do realise that writing about it so frequently may suggest otherwise).
And an interesting development has occurred simultaneously: Bolshy, out of nowhere, has decided he prefers me to Daddy, so now I have the honour of a snuggling, snoring bulldog shedding and drooling as he sleeps in my lap every night.
Which some people might not be too excited about. I love it so much I might even need a 'Bolshy dance.'