Having a child is a lot like skiing. Everyone has an opinion. Sometimes you get wet and feel like crying. But most will tell you the experience improves over time if you show patience. 

Before Luca was born we read magazines and listened to advice from doctors and friends. We even went down the “must have” list that Babys “R” Us  gave us. As luck would have it, every item on the list was available at Babys “R” Us! Imagine that. 

I suspect there’s some psychology at work here on new parents. Having a list to check off provides a comfort during a stressful and confusing time. By the time Luca was born we’d finished off most of the list including the expensive digital thermometer which we later found out shouldn’t be used on babies.

Although we had no idea what we were doing we could solace in the fact we’d gathered dozens of items our newborn could not care less about. I lost count the number of times I was told how to use a car seat. Their insistence told me they assumed I was planning to drive around the streets of Seattle with one arm on the wheel and the other holding our baby out the window.

I tried my best to contribute and do whatever a new father is supposed to do. I was a mix of my own father on good days. And Al Bundy on bad days.

As far as I could tell my only two jobs were to empty the diaper genie and keep foreign objects out of Luca’s mouth. Loosely translated, that required keeping our dog’s chew toys away from our baby. Every item the baby came in contact with had to be clean. Like the bubble boy without the bubble.

I didn’t realize how much things had changed between the time Luca was born till today. Nearly 7 years has passed, and our fourth child, Kai, is almost 18 months old. This week Kai decided to put his face in our dog’s water bowl. Had Luca done that same, we would have been on the phone with a doctor asking if we should bring her in for a tetanus shot.

But we’ve changed. And I didn’t realize how much until I realized that instead of pulling Kai away from the water bowl, Kim grabbed the Flip Mino to capture his antics on video.

But don’t worry. There’s no need to notify family services.

Because he wasn’t able to down more than a few pieces of dog food before we grabbed him.

For an hour today everything except my daughter took a backseat.

It was a wonderful, peaceful, spiritual hour.

Luca and I wore white jumpsuits as we sat next to each other in the chapel. She told me her feet were cold. I told her mine were cold too. She placed one of her feet on mine to prove hers were colder. They were.

When it was our time, I held her hand as we walked down the hall towards the baptismal font. She entered the font through one door while I went through another.

Down the stairs and into the water we waded. She stretched her hand towards me not knowing how deep the water was. I whispered in her ear that everything would be fine.

A group of friends had gathered around the font to witness this special event in the life of our oldest daughter. I know Luca was comforted by the sight of familiar faces in the crowd.

After the prayer, I gently immersed her entire body in the warm water. She regained her balance and gently shook her long, wet hair. Everything was fine.

I kissed the top of her head before leading her back up the stairs where mom was waiting.

And like that, the hour had slipped away.

It’s now midnight in Seattle and the kids are down for the night. The house is quiet except for the dog snoring at my feet. I’m watching the snow fall outside the window on this cold, dark night.

These are a few of the details I will remember about the day I baptized our first child.

Because for an hour today, everything except my daughter took a backseat.

She wasn’t expecting to see him. All she knew was that he’d  be at her baptism on Saturday. But she wasn’t expecting to see him at her school.

Yet there he stood in Lincoln’s classroom waiting for the bell to ring. A line of kindergarten students stretched across the room. Jackets were zipped and backpacks thrown over shoulders. Twenty little bodies of bottled up energy ready to burst out the door.

I stood at the back of the line with my father. He’s not small in stature and, his booming voice can be intimidating. But he’s a gentle man with immeasurable love for his grandchildren. Although my mother has been ill for many years, making trips for her to Seattle a rarity, he’s flown up on his own every six months to see his only four grandchildren who live outside Utah.

Still waiting for the bell to ring. Once out the door we’d head down the hall towards Luca’s 2nd grade class where we’d hand out donuts to celebrate her birthday.

And that’s when I noticed a little girl with long brown hair wearing glasses and a bright pink shirt push her face up against the window. Her hair was wet and her glasses fogged up but that didn’t stop her from looking into Lincoln’s classroom. I waved, but she didn’t see me.

But when her grandpa waved, she saw him. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile stretched across her face. I turned to catch my dad with the same sized smile. Does it get any better than having your grandpa visit?

As I stood there taking it all in, I was filled with joy. This might be a very small slice of life. But sometimes the smallest slices are the most flavorful.

I’m thrilled my oldest daughter has a close relationship with her grandpa. I didn’t mind being overlooked as she peered through the window today. Her smile. That gorgeous smile told me everything I needed to know.

Some tasks have my name written all over them. Taking out the garbage, killing spiders and replacing light bulbs come to mind. I’m free to do these any day, any time.

Then there’s the list of jobs I’m never asked to do.

Just ahead of washing delicates is doing the girls hair.

But today was an exception because we were late for church and Kim was busy chasing after Kai.

I called Luca to the bathroom and pulled out a brush. She must have felt like she’d gone to an upscale salon only to find out a first semester cosmetology student would be cutting her hair.

“Wrong brush, dad”

Off to a good start.

I open three drawers looking for one brush that – well – looks like a brush. Some of the tools I uncover look useful only if the goal is to remove sections of scalp. Definitely above my pay grade.

I eventually stumble upon a brush that doesn’t appear to have been created to inflict pain, and I begin to run it through Luca’s hair.

“Spray some of that first”

I pickup a small spray bottle that looks entirely too much like one I used on shirts I ironed a while back. No wonder they smelled strange.

This seems to help the comb move through the hair. I comb the sides and the back. We’re making progress. 

But when it comes to combing Luca’s bangs I have no clue. Right or left. Pulled forward or back. Nothing I do seems to look right. It can’t be this hard, I tell myself. Do I need more spray? Should I break out the hair dryer?

I need a miracle.

Just as I’m about to call for mom, Luca jumps up on the counter and looks in the mirror. She turns her head to the left. Then to the right.

“Looks good, dad”

She gives me a hug, jumps off the counter and runs downstairs.

Just call me Gene Juarez from here on out.