Missing being Dad
I'm back in NZ. Karen and Isabella are in the UK.
I miss them a little today - it's great being home and being our own house - but I'm knocking around the place a little bit. It's all good being able to go for a beer with a mate after work, and sleeping in on a weekend. But cooking for one is just odd now. And the house is so quiet.
Being a Dad is great, Isabella is just this wonderful bubbly, peaceful being of hope and possibility. She dribbles and giggles and talks away to herself in her cot. When I come to pick her up in the morning, her eyes light up and her wee mouth creases into a gurgly celebratory laugh - as if seeing me is the best thing since forever. Her wee arms flap and I know she's going to fly one day.
I miss picking her up each morning.