We weren’t sure how our daughter Senita would react when meeting her newborn brother just one day before her second birthday.
As soon as he opened his mouth and his pacifier fell out, she made her role clear: she would be his helper.
She let out a high-pitched “whoops!”, scooped the pacifier up, and jammed it back into his face nearly choking him (with love).
That moment unlocked a nurturing instinct that has flooded across her toy chest turning each of her favorite toys into “babies” in need of parenting.
Six weeks after my second child’s birth seems too early to become a grandpa, yet I’m now spending almost as much time taking care of my daughter’s “kids” as my own.
Though it’s worth noting that her “kids” are an animatronic dog, a tickle-me Elmo, and a cartoonishly large rubber ducky.
Violet, the animatronic dog is the most troublesome. She was an unplanned addition to our family who showed up on our doorstep in a cardboard box with only a gift receipt to her name.
Elmo was also a birthday present (placed lovingly in our care by her grandparents) and is the most physically active of her “kids.” He’s not a high-achiever like Violet but he’s very personable and extremely good at giggling, dancing, and playing tummy time.
I have no idea how the 9-inch-tall rubber ducky got drafted into the family (after two years as a mere bath accessory) but he’s imprinted himself onto her heart and they’ve been practically inseparable for a month. He doesn’t do anything because he’s simply an oversized rubber ducky.
Each of these “kids” take up most of Senita’s attention throughout the day and a fair share of my own.
I’ve changed Violet’s bib more times than I could count, turned on the activity mat’s sound so Elmo could have a proper tummy time, and now use a hairdryer on her rubber ducky after every bath even though he’s bald and made of a material specifically designed to repel water.
Adding a newborn into our lives is a transformational experience and easily the most meaningful work we’ve ever undertaken as a family. But it’s also incredibly repetitive and boring. Our lives are carved into 3-4 hour cycles of feeding, diaper, sleep, repeat.
Just as Jenny and I make sure our newborn is constantly cared for, Senita make sure that each of her “kids” are regularly fed, burped, and put to bed.
We’re fortunate that (so far, at least) instead of rejecting the monotony of our “new normal,” Senita has internalized what she’s seen and applied it to other areas of her life.
She’s long been a mimic, especially when it comes to household chores.
Jenny once had to stop a Zoom meeting to address a colleague’s confusion as to why he saw me walk by (in the window behind my wife) with a leaf blower immediately followed by a toddler with a Swiffer.
Jenny replied, “She’s helping.”.
Spending time with my two-year-old daughter often feels like hanging out with an inebriated parrot who’s also hard of hearing.
“Napkins” are “nutmeg,” the tips of our fingers are called “toe nails,” and “peanut butter” is simply referred to as “brown jelly.”
I love the missteps and mispronunciations. They add color to our days and always make me laugh, though I usually gently correct her so she won’t start kindergarten as the weird kid who thinks Minnie Mouse is “pink Mickey.”
We’ll fix the inaccuracies over time but right now we’re simply overjoyed to have her so engaged in nurturing and empathetic ways.
While Senita has an admittedly strange habit of trying to sit on her brother’s lap and over-enthusiastically kisses him goodnight after he’s already deeply asleep, those transgressions come from a pure place.
She’s forming important instincts that will serve her well in life. Just as importantly, my son is incredibly lucky to have such a well-meaning and loving third person in his life.
Though I didn’t expect it to be one of my first lessons as a second-time parent, the old adage proves true: it really is more fun being a grandparent.
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