317. Dad Crush -

So, why am I writing this?

I was wrong.

Here is why I am utterly, irrevocably smitten: 317. Dad Crush

To the guy at the indoor playground: I’m not going to talk to you. That would ruin the magic. Plus, you’re probably married and I’m just here for the Wi-Fi.

P.S. If you are that dad and you’re reading this… pretend you didn’t. And can you please teach my husband the trick about the hair tie? So, why am I writing this

This is the finale. After an hour of play, the meltdown begins. The kid is arching her back like a feral cat. She does not want to go in the car seat. Most parents (me) would just brute force the straps and pray. Not Dad Crush. He kneels down in the parking lot gravel. He plays “I’m gonna get your belly!” He clicks the buckle on the count of three. When the kid finally settles, he kisses her forehead, turns on the white noise machine app on his phone, and looks up—for just a second—absolutely exhausted, but victorious.

I have a confession to make. It’s a little embarrassing, a little wholesome, and entirely unexpected. That would ruin the magic

Because I used to think romance was candlelit dinners and “Netflix and chill.” I used to think a crush required mystery and six-pack abs.