— “It’s a girl, it’s a girl!” — Tommy exclaimed when he held his daughter in his arms for the first time, and that sparkle in his eyes never faded. His gaze lit up just like that day every time he saw his little girl.

Now she was four months old, and every time Tommy came home from work, he would greet you with a kiss on the forehead and then find the baby, lift her up in the air, and make her giggle, a laugh that filled the house and his heart. He never stopped saying how much little Olivia looked like her beautiful mother.

He was standing in the room, next to you as you fold and store clean clothes in the closet. The baby was a spoiled little thing; she cried every time she wasn't in her mom or dad's arms. Tommy would follow you around the house while you did chores; he took care of the baby while you do that.

— “Just look at her. I wonder where you got your pretty face.” — he would say in a silly voice to the baby, holding her in one arm and cradling her with the other. He would look at you. — “My mommy, I got my pretty face from my mommy.” — he would say in a higher-pitched voice, pretending to be the baby, taking one of her chubby little arms and pointing it at you.

He always did those silly things that made you smile, and the baby giggle.