Sam is his Daddy's boy.

This was a long time in coming. Though he's long had a fascination with that bearded character who comes home in the evening and plays rough, tickly games, it's only been in the last few months that he's begun to express an occasional preference for Dad's company, even over Mom's. Sure, Mommy has the nursies, but Daddy is cool. Daddy plays the best games, ones that involve kicking balls around the kitchen or wrestling Sam to the ground. Moms are good for comfort; dads are good for thrills.

Okay, so maybe I'm generalizing a bit. You haven't seen his eyes positively light up the house when he hears Eric's key in the door.

Last week, then, was understandably awful. Eric was in Wisconsin from Wednesday afternoon (he left straight from work) until Saturday evening. We tried to prepare Sam, but he seemed oblivious to Eric's imminent departure. His Wednesday morning farewell was his usual kiss at the babygate, a wave, and a murmured "Bye." (On occasion, he's ad-libbed that a bit; once, he went on to say, "Bye-bye...Da-da...Got to go!")

And then it was the evening, and Eric was not there. Sam was slightly miffed, but not terribly so; he seemed to think that perhaps Eric was just running late, as happens on occasion. He fought sleep as long as he could, perhaps waiting for the third member of our sleeping arrangement to join us, but he finally succumbed to the Sandman's whispers and slept reasonably soundly.

By the next evening, he was on a mission to retrieve Daddy. He continually piped his demands to me, as though I had Eric stashed away in a closet somewhere: "Da-da? Da-da! Dad?" He searched the hallway, and he stared out the window. When bedtime rolled around, it was only through the administration of a long, warm bath and lots of nursing and snuggling that I managed to convince him to close his eyes.

The rest of the time remaining got progressively harder. Bear in mind that I, too, was sorely missing Eric; I always feel a bit incomplete when he's gone for more than a day or two. My solution to the matter was to keep both Sam and myself occupied as much as possible. I cleaned and organized; Sam and I played with his trains, and we went out to the toy store to play with those toys as well.

Saturday rolled around at last. When Eric came through the door, Sam was lying in my arms, passed out cold for an unusual second nap, due to a restless night of tossing and turning, searching for Daddy in his sleep. We pulled off a quick switch, and when Sam opened his eyes about half an hour later, it was to find himself in Daddy's arms at long last. He smiled a tiny smile and clung tightly to Eric for a while. All was well in our house once more.

Until last night, that is. An entire day had passed since Eric got home, and nothing unusual had occurred, but when Eric though to stay up and use the computer for a while before joining us in bed, Sam decided to put his foot down. He kept himself awake, nursing in bed with me, and when ten o'clock rolled around with no Daddy, he got out of bed and went downstairs to find him. Eric laughed, and the two of them stayed downstairs a while longer. After a bit, Eric brought Sam back to bed. "He's stumbling around, exhausted, and he just fell three times in a row," he said. "I'll be up after the news to join you."

As the door closed behind him, though, Sam started up out of my arms and began to scream. Loud, high-pitched, furious screams. He did not want to lie down, and he did not want to nurse. He did not want me. I finally managed to persuade him to let me hold him, sitting at the foot of the bed, and I rocked him back and forth while he sobbed into my shoulder. Needless to say, Eric didn't watch the news, but in the time it took him to shut down the computer and the television, my shoulder was soaked through and through with Sam's tears.

When Eric came to bed, Sam frantically nestled closely between us, latched on to nurse - and was fast asleep within three minutes. Poor child. He slept terribly, too, waking to nurse three or four times where he usually wakes up once, if at all.

The price one pays to be adored - except, of course, that I don't think Eric woke at all last night. It doesn't seem fair, that.

Besides his overwhelming devotion to Daddy fun and games, I really think Sam has begun to identify with Eric as a role model. Yesterday morning, getting dressed and ready, Eric stood before the mirror, brushing his hair. After a moment, we both noticed that Sam, standing behind him, had managed to find his own hairbrush and was closely mimicking Eric's moves.

At lunch, Sam was feeding himself applesauce, cheerfully pushing it around with his spoon. Eric picked up a piece of bread and bit into it with a loud, playful growl. Sam paused, then immediately dropped his spoon, grabbed for his own bread, and bit it. He played this copycat routine several times over the course of the meal, each time doing exactly what he saw Eric doing.

If he sees Eric shoes lying on the floor, he tries to climb into them and walk. He rarely does this with my shoes, though whether that's because they're mine or simply that he doesn't care for sandals, I don't know. Last night, he brought Eric his slippers and knelt in front of his bare feet, putting on the slippers and then removing them over and over again.

When Eric has a glass in his hand, Sam comes running to have a taste. Daddy is also the giver of cheese, Sam's current favorite food; the two of them will happily sit and share a block of cheddar, chewing on the slivers that Eric cuts for each of them. When we sit down to dinner, Sam stares raptly across the table at Eric while I say the blessing; we all talk about our days, and Sam joins the conversation, babbling to Eric as if to tell him of all the fun he's had, and will have.

It's heartwarming and heartbreaking to see how much unconditional love can burn in his tiny heart. Daddy can do no wrong; things that would cause major tantrums if done by Mommy will pass with only minor complaint when done by Dad. Eric's presence makes diaper changes go more smoothly, tooth brushing more peaceful, and naptime more acceptable. When Eric is there, Sam trusts that all will be well. I envy him his faith, and I hope we never do anything to damage it beyond repair.

"Da-da," he murmurs into his toy telephone. "Good, good, good." He expresses in a single breath what has taken me two hours to write. I think I finally understand the depth of the concept of "pure."