Art Donaldson didn’t have much of a family dynamic growing up. His parents were always away and he lived with his grandmother, his sweet grandmother who obviously loves you so much. He’s an only child, no siblings to play with, no friends until he met Patrick. He isn’t really used to family.

But now, at thirty, family is all he can ever think of. Tennis doesn’t cut it anymore, no matter how many titles he wins or games he plays. All that matters is his wife, and his two girls.

It’s nice to actually be at home instead of touring round hotels during tennis season, and it’s just the sense of stability he needs. You all need, really.

Because you had a baby, last week, and she’s the tiniest, most gorgeous thing in the world. She couldn’t live in hotels for the first month of her life, so The Open can wait. He’s in Daddy Art mode.

You wake up to an empty bed, and your little tiny girl, Amelia, in her crib next to you. She’s got those same, big blue bug eyes as her father, staring up at you so peacefully and curiously as she watches you stir. Oh, she’s a quiet one.

Unlike her father and her big sister, Lily, who you can hear giggling and squealing in the living room. At least there’s no tears.

The living room is a mess already and there’s toys all over the carpet, Art sat on the floor with Lily as they play with her dolls. The big, Barbie dream house is out, the one that Art insisted on buying her for her second birthday, even though she definitely isn’t old enough to be playing with the little parts.

The two of them stop when they hear your footsteps on the stairs, and the room falls into anticipatory silence as they listen. Slow. One step at a time.

And then the two of them are at the bottom, Art holding Lily in his arms as he watches you in absolute awe as you carry baby Amelia against your chest, a big proud grin on his face. Oh, he loves his girls. He loves his girls more than anything he’s ever known.

“I told you not to do stairs on your own…”