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“I don’t know what he wants.”
“Neither do I yet.”
“You usually know.”
“I usually figure it out.”
He hesitated before finally lifting Miles.
The crying became louder.
“See?” Derek said nervously. “I’m making it worse.”
“You’ve been holding him for ten seconds.”
“What do I do?”
A hundred instructions immediately appeared in my mind.
Check his diaper.
Try rocking him.
Hold him upright.
Walk slowly.
But instead of taking control, I said, “Start paying attention.”
Derek began pacing too quickly.
Miles cried harder.
Derek slowed his steps.
A minute later, the crying softened.
“He’s stopping,” Derek whispered.
“Yeah.”
He looked down at our son.
“You make this look easy.”
“You told me I do nothing all day.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
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