I had just finished brushing my teeth when my phone lit up. Her name glowed on the screen, and I smiled. Like clockwork, my little girl was calling for her nightly check-in — our bedtime ritual.
I answered on the second ring.
“Hi, baby girl,” I said softly. My voice always shifted for her, automatically settling into a warm, soothing tone.
She gave a shy giggle. “Hiiii, Daddy…”
“Did you finish your warm milk like I asked?”
“Mhm. In my sippy cup. I wore the pink one… with the bunnies,” she said, her voice muffled like she was speaking into her stuffed animal. Probably Mr. Waffles.
“That’s my good girl.” I could practically hear her melt. “Are you tucked in?”
She paused. “Almost… I forgot Teddy.”
“Oh no,” I teased gently. “What would Teddy do if he didn’t get his cuddles?”
“He’d cry!” she said, giggling again.
“Then we better not let that happen. Go get him. I’ll wait.”
I heard the soft rustle of blankets and the pitter-patter of her feet, then the sound of her climbing back into bed. “Got him,” she whispered.
“Good. Now lie back. Close your eyes. Daddy’s right here.”
There was silence for a moment, only her soft breathing on the other end.
“I missed you today,” she whispered.
“I missed you too, princess. I thought about you all day. You’ve been such a brave girl lately.”
Her voice got even softer. “I tried really hard today. I didn’t even pout when I had to do boring grown-up stuff…”
“I’m so proud of you.” I paused. “Would you like your lullaby?”
“Yes, please…”
And so I sang — low, slow, and sweet. Just for her. Her breathing got deeper, slower. I didn’t need to see her to know she was clutching Teddy and drifting off with the faintest smile.
“Goodnight, my little one,” I whispered. “Daddy loves you. Always.”
The call stayed on, long after she’d fallen asleep.