Lofton was great from day one. No, he didn’t indulge my late night cravings for snow cones {Truthfully I indulged enough on my own. Thirty-seven pounds of indulgence to be exact.}. But he DID shout encouraging words from the bed when I was in our bathroom throwing up every night.
He attended every doctor’s appointment, rubbed my feet when I could no longer see them, and even shaved my legs a couple of times. Clearly nothing prepared us for the horror that was the birth of our child, but he was strong and brave and amazing.
I remember little about that night. My most vivid memory is of Lofton sitting by my bed after everyone had left and telling me, with tears in his eyes, that I NEVER had to do that again. And that if he’d known it was going to be that awful he wouldn’t have made me have children.
Since then he has put Reese to bed almost every night. That’s their time. He sings Reese old George Strait songs and prays with him before laying him in his crib. I think it’s fitting that Reese’s bedtime falls around 8:15, because that’s the exact time he was born, and Lofton was the person that got to hold him first that night. It’s been “their” time since the beginning.
In typical male fashion Lofton is always looking ahead to the next thing. “When will Reese smile?,” he’d ask. Roll Over? Crawl? But I know he’s just excited to see what’s around the corner. I swear he dreams at night of coaching soccer and taking Reese hunting.
Reese gave him a card this morning that said, "I'm so glad my Mama picked you to be my Daddy." Ha, ha. I guess that pretty much sums it all up! Happy 1st Father’s Day, Lofton. We love you.
Still one of my favorite pictures.
Happy Father's Day to my daddy, as well. He is the BEST. By far.
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