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Daddy’s Boy

By Richie Ann Ashcraft
“YOUR son is so spoiled,? the phone conversation started. My son? Soren is definitely a Daddy•s boy. Right now there is nobody in this world funnier, smarter, or taller than his Dad. I’m really just Daddy’s sidekick who happens to feed him. And Daddy is just as smitten with his little boy. We spent a night at Trapper’s Lake Lodge to celebrate our wedding anniversary. An undisclosed location near the lake was the site for our elopement last year. Our cabin was clean and cozy. The lodge cuisine was good home cooking. Being the only baby guest, Soren was oohed and ogled over. He milked it by flirting with waitress and offering a big (still toothless) grin to everyone we met. We celebrated the anniversary with a HUGE hike to Wall Lake. It is five miles straight up a mountain, then of course five miles straight down which isn’t any easier. Marty had to entice me with promises of cheeseburgers and hot tub as rewards. “They’re called the Flat Tops Richie…just get up this next part and it’ll be flat.? Phew...ok. Daddy carried Soren the entire way. Not in a snuggly or a backpack, but right in his arms. He now weighs 15 pounds and he wiggles! daddy.jpg But Daddy didn•t care. He just trudged along, stopping every so often to wait for panting Mommy to catch up. When they stopped, Daddy showed Soren the burned trees, let him feel the bark, taste the wild raspberries, showed him the stinky horse poop, and chatted nonstop. Soren loved it and listened with rapt attention. He’d interject a screech or razz. Daddy would make up songs and dance up the trail. “No baby no cry…? At the lake, the baby was finally given to me to feed and change. I offered to carry the butterball through the flat meadow because I knew he had to be a heavy burden. Daddy walked ahead on the narrow horse trail, turning around like a giant monkey grunting and scratching his armpits every so often as we walked. Each time Soren would laugh hysterically. Dad would turn into a giant crab pinching his belly with clicking crustacean noises. And the nonstop chatter of the two pals continued. When my arms were breaking off, I gave the baby back to dad and tried my own funny business. I was the monkey mom saying oooggaa oooggaa in my best monkey voice. They both looked at me patiently but with no smiles. Apparently, moms don•t make funny monkeys. Daddy would proudly show the baby off each time we met someone on the trail, bragging about his age and beaming when he was told how much they look alike. Soren had to take a few catnaps on the long walk. As I was puffing along to catch up, I watched Marty unconsciously smooth his white blond hair with a kiss nestling the baby’s head into the curve of his neck. daddysorenblog.jpg I made a good decision marrying that man. I know exactly why Soren and I love him so much.

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