Am I A Softie?

I could go on and on and on about ALL the things about my girls that I cherish. I've been thinking about one little thing that, for some reason, almost brings to tears to my eyes. It's one of those small, intimate moments a parent and child can share.

Our girls finally have enough hair to comb and brush. We currently have them on a every-other-day bath schedule since they are indoors 95% of the time. About 20-30 minutes before bedtime on bath nights, we haul them upstairs for their pre-crib bath. Out of the bathtub they come, one by one, back to their bedroom to have their pj's put on. Then their hair has to be combed - it used to be brushed, but Sarah told me we need to comb now because their hair is long enough in the back to get tangled, if not combed.

The moment: There is something about that 2 minutes when I am combing Allie, Anna, or Emily's hair, that is almost surreal. Time stops. Nothing else matters. There is just me and my little girl. Maybe Allie blinks hers eyes lightly as each stroke of the comb goes through her hair. Or Anna's eyes radiate as they meet mine. Maybe Emily giggles, as only Emily can. Simple gestures, yet lasting memories.

Am I a softie or just a sensitive guy? Am I more sensitive to the simple joys and pleasures a child brings because we didn't have but a moment with our first daughter?Has that made me more appreciative of these tender moments?

Call me a softie, that's OK. Being called a softie is a price I am willing to pay for tender moments with my daughters.