I consider myself to be a good father and yet, yesterday, somehow, I managed to lose the baby.
First, let me show you how our house is set up. We have what's called a "great room" style house, which is a fancy way of saying that everything is in one room. In our case it's more like a "not-so-great room," or and "okay room." It's not very big.
The kitchen is against two walls and there's a bar that runs the length of the room. Sort of like this:
I was sitting on the couch watching TV when I looked over to check on the baby and she was gone... and not just the baby, the entire bassinet. I jumped up and went to where the bassinet was sitting, figuring that Sam had pushed it into the kitchen area.... but it wasn't there. In fact, it wasn't anywhere in site and Sam was standing right next to me. Now, I knew in my heart that it was impossible for an entire bassinet, with baby inside, to just vanish... but all of that good rational thought was immediately pushed out when I COULDN'T SEE MY BABY ANYWHERE! SHE WAS RIGHT HERE!! The panic that gripped me in that few seconds was as real as if I had dropped the baby in a pit full of wild dogs (how do you spell "Dingo's?").
Thank God, I found her. Sam had quietly managed to push the bassinet all the way across the kitchen and around the corner of the bar, leaving it in the one place in the entire "great room" that can't be seen when standing where the bassinet was supposed to be.
The mistake I made was in not paying close enough attention to Sam, who loves to push things. However, that mistake pales in comparison to the mistake I made in telling my wife the story. She wasn't upset with me, far from it. She thought it was hilarious. This morning, I awoke to find that Bobbi had made a modification to the bassinet to prevent me from losing the baby again.
God, I love that woman.