Taking Turns

After reading a friend's blog about a terribly sleepless night taking care of her little one while Daddy was away on a scout campout, I couldn't help but think of this story Kirk told me.  I can't remember where the telling of this story originated, but it is completely true, and it went something like this.

A woman wakes up her husband and asks him to take a turn with their fussy baby.  He rolls out of bed, incoherent and exhausted, and stumbles across the hall to the nursery.

He retrieves his crying son and begins to change him, rock him, etc. to calm him and help him fall back asleep.  All the while, he is angrily ranting and raving to himself about having to get up in the middle of the night.

"What do you mean it's my turn!  We'd have to be taking turns for it to be my turn!"

He gets his son back to sleep and returns to his bedroom, where his equally tired wife is sobbing.

She apparently heard his entire tyrade through the baby monitor.

Props to all the daddies out there who, without complaint, take their turns in the middle of the night.  We are so blessed to be women in a generation where the fathers are expected to do more than just bring home a paycheck.  I, for one, am grateful for all the emotional support and physical help that the daddy of our house contributes.  I can't say he never complains at helping out with laundry or kids or cooking or dishes or cleaning the bathrooms.  But he does it.  And that is good enough for me.