Not to rob credit from my wife who posted on our daughter’s migration from crib to toddler bed but I wanted to write something that my daughter will one day hopefully read. Go to A Work in Progress to see our kiddo’s response to migration. It’s a new family classic. On to the poetry. You uber men may move on.

Every night I go through a little dance with my little Grace,
she dances around her room with a slightly mischievous face,
we share a nightly ritual with its own pace and rhythm,
we have a pace to read, cuddle, and snuggle,
creating our little bubble of daddy daughter time.

Oh how I love our little pace,
moments of joy staring in to a still so innocent face,
the night winds down and sleep begins to win as
Her books have been all read again and again.

She asks for one more book but knows its time for bed,
then the words that come over little lips of our daughter Grace,
words that bring a smile every time to my and her mother’s face,
“Cuddle more?” Just one more time? It gives me a chance to revel in grace,
and look in to the future’s still small face.