253. Poker Face:
She was just so damn cute. It was those cheeks. They were fat like a cherub’s and had that rosy pink tinge to them. In short, she was adorable.
As I leant over the crib and marveled at what I had created (well half created, anyway), I couldn’t help but poke (r) (her) face (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?! FUCKING BRILLIANT!)
I wanted to squeeze her cheeks like I’d once squeezed my husband’s when he had looked crestfallen and like a little boy after I’d accidentally mentioned an ex-boyfriend’s name. My daughter, however, was too young yet to show her emotions with her facial expressions. Other than cry, she sort of grimaced in a way we assumed was an attempt at a smile, but nothing else.
If she was anything like me, she’d never be able to hide her emotions. My face said it all. Frederick was the same. He was rubbish at poker (the card game) and even worse at his poker face. His eyes told me how he felt and what he wanted to say long before he opened his mouth. His sighs did the same thing.
Unlike my husband, I didn’t think showing your emotions was a weakness though. Rather, it showed that you were human, vulnerable and open to the world. It meant you had a heart. I had once closed myself off from anybody and any form of love, but I hadn’t survived for very long. Love was essential and I knew I would be teaching my daughter to give it out freely and without expecting anything in return as soon as she was old enough. I was hoping she was a faster learner than her father.