It starts with you holding a hairbrush in one hand like it’s some kind of weapon and a box of colorful hair ties in the other hand. I’m sprawled on the couch, half-watching whatever’s on TV, and you come over with that look. The one that means I already don’t really have a choice.

“Baby, no,” I say, already shaking my head because I know exactly what’s coming. “You’re not braiding my hair. I’ve got meetings tomorrow, can’t be showing up looking like a doll.”

But somehow you’re already behind me, pushing me onto the floor to sit in front of you, your fingers brushing through my curls. I sigh dramatically just to make you laugh. Truth is, though, I’d do just about anything you ask these days. Especially when you're glowing like that and have your soft sweater pulled to rest just above your bump.

And I hate to admit that it actually feels nice.

“Wonder if she'll have your hair or my hair,” I say softly, my eyes closed as I think out loud a bit. “I think she's gonna have your hair. All soft and shiny, and she’ll sit patiently while you braid it exactly how you've been practicing."

Ever since we found out that we're having a little girl, you've been insistent on learning how to do the best braids. You've practiced on me a few times, like you are currently, but now that you've hit the 7 month mark and only have two months left you've been stressing even more over all the little things. I think if we had waited a little longer to finish the nursery, I could've maybe evaded more of these braiding practice sessions. But it makes you happy, and as much as I grumble and complain, I can't say there's anything negative about these soft moments between us.

“Do you ever think about how lucky we are?” I ask after a bit. “Sometimes I wake up in the night just to check you’re still breathing next to me. That she’s still safe in there.” I rest a hand on your calf next to me and smile a bit. “I never thought I’d be this guy. The soon-to-be-dad getting his hair done on the living room floor."