Linda keeps saying how she wishes Violet could stay a newborn forever. At this size, she’s little more than a handful; perfect for holding in the crook of an arm; tolerant of staring and unable/not desiring to get away from our constant attention (she’s usually asleep anyway). Her needs are, for the most part, basic. Friends and relatives tell us to enjoy this time because this Violet will soon be gone, replaced by a crawling blur of energy. Linda doesn’t want to be reminded. She wants to freeze this time. I do, too. It’s one reason we’ve already taken hundreds of pictures, but I’m insanely curious and anxious for what comes next – for when I see that first spark of recognition in Violet’s eyes, when there appears a smile that I know is for me, for a time when interaction begins. I think then I’ll start to feel more like a daddy.
12 days old