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When Lucy was born, she looked like me. The midwife traced her tiny newborn brow with her forefinger and said, “Yeah, I think she looks like you. Your eyes, nose, brow…” When she smiled her first smile, there was no doubt she was MY KID. Poor Nate couldn’t find any resemblance to himself. These days, as Lucy starts to make more expressions, and as her face becomes more a kid face and less a baby face, she favors her daddy more and more.Β 

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This is a good thing. After all, Daddy is pretty much Lucy’s fav these days. She asks about him all day long, from the moment she gets up (pointing, from her changing table, towards our bedroom: “Daddy?”), through every meal (pointing at the door: “Daddy?”), all day long until Nate calls to let us know he’s headed home from work. She knows when the phone rings between 5 and 5:30 pm that it’s Daddy coming home!Β 

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You couldn’t ask for a bester set of buds than Lucy and her Daddy.

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