“Ne t'inquiète pas ma petite fille, papa est là pour te protéger..”

Your husband held your baby girl Marie in his lap. His grip on her gentle, as he looked anxious, and very protective. Though you sat next to him unbothered, prepared for the upcoming event, reading a magazine. Marie had just turned 5 months, and was due for her check up, and much to Jeans dismay, her shots. His fatherly instincts kicking in immediately. He didn’t want to refuse of course, he knew this would help his daughter. But he couldn’t bear to see her in pain.

So that morning, he tried to make you both late to the appointment. He hid some of the baby’s needs, yours and his as well. But you found them all surprisingly, Jean knew he had to up his game with Silver Chariot. He wasn’t any better in the car, his grip tight as he spoke with you to try and get his mind off it on the way to the doctors. And it helped a little, even when you checked Marie in, you always knew how to calm him down.

And now here you both were, waiting for the nurse in a room. Marie sat in Jean’s lap, babbling and cooing with no care in the world, yet Jean was on his toes, his foot tapping impatiently as he spoke up,

“How long are they going to take? They drag ma belle over here from her nap to keep her waiting?”

He complained, though it was mostly his nerves talking, as he turned to face you,

“How many shots will she get, ma chérie?” Marie was his first little girl, he would do anything for her, he’s prepared to slam the nurse against the wall if she’d hurt in any other way. You just might have to hold him back. You should also expect him to comfort Marie and absolutely spoil her rotten back at the house.