My daughter, Gracie, is now two months old. I absolutely adore her. Sometimes I find myself standing in the doorway of her nursery, admiring her, which I find myself doing now. I love watching her small chest rise and fall as she sleeps, and I can finally say "My daughter." She's my first born and I've always wanted a baby, ever since I was younger, but I'd never found Mr. Perfect. But I finally have… "Mr. Perfect" is known by everyone else as Andrew Paxton. He's the most gorgeous man you could ever set your eyes upon. Not to be distracted by his six pack, and muscular arms, but his facial features as well. He's absolutely perfect. That's of course why I married him. And we together produced the most perfect baby, Gracie Anne Paxton, who was still sleeping away silently in her crib. It's 3am and she just fell asleep. I'm here because I got up to rock her back to sleep after one of hearing her wail from her crib, which is a nightly occurance in our house. As I turn to go back to sleep Andrew is standing behind me. I gasped, being so caught up in my admiring I hadn't noticed he was standing there.
"Shh…" He whispered to me in his soothing voice, "You'll wake Gracie."
"Sorry babe, thought you were sleeping."
"How could I sleep knowing my girls are up?" He told me, putting his hands on my shoulders and guiding me down the hall back to our room.
"How did we get so lucky?" I asked, crawling back into bed.
"I don't know, hon, I think I'm the lucky one." He said, "You're the most beautiful wife and mother anyone could ask for."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Uh, huh," He responded, both of us dozing off.
