Last night, I rocked my daughter.

That may not sound like a big deal, but in our house, it is. You see, ever since Lucy was a baby, it was her Daddy who rocked her. I was lucky in that every time she woke up (which was usually once a night), Joe would get up with her and let me sleep. I was grateful because, unlike other new mothers, I was well-rested. But, as Lucy grew older, I realized it had its drawbacks.

At bedtime, it’s Daddy who Lucy wants to rub her back or to rock her. She never wants Mommy and, if I even dare to try to take Daddy’s place, she cries for him. When she wakes up at night or in the morning, it’s Daddy she calls for.

So, every night for the last  three years, it’s been Joe who has rocked our daughter before bed.

Until last night. Sure, it took some coaxing from Daddy who was required to sit on the floor by Lucy’s bed. But it’s OK. Because last night I rocked my daughter.