I tried, to no avail, to get "daddy" to be his first word, but "mommy" came out weeks sooner. Still, nothing can steal the sweetness of seeing his face light up and his little voice utter the word I have longed to hear for so long.
"Daddy." It's what I called my father so many years ago. A man I never really got a chance to know. He passed away at the age of 30. I was only 7. Still, I revere the man. He was raising five kids, with the help of his mother, after his wife (my mother) left us--never to be heard from again. What a man. What a father. I hope I can be half the daddy he was to me and my siblings. I wonder if he rejoiced at hearing me calling him "daddy" for the first time like I did with my son. I wonder if it broke his heart like mine is broken this week. Broken with absolute adoration and love for my son.
Has a nice ring to it. And I couldn't be more proud.
I'll try to get it on video and share it with you here sometime in the near future.
P.S. On Friday, Morgan will turn 1! I'll have a few things to write about that, on Friday.