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The rocking chair was a gift from Phil’s parents.
It had a soft, white cover and was a light toned wood that matched the rest of their baby’s nursery so perfectly. It had a matching ottoman, which Dan could envision Phil stubbing his toe on at least a million times.
When they finally brought the baby home, Dan was a little more impatient than Phil was.
Rosie was fussy and wasn’t always the happiest. She would whimper and grunt constantly, causing great worry and mental exhaustion on Dan’s part.
Dan didn’t even realize that he could suffer from postpartum depression the same way a mother would, but he definitely started to exhibit symptoms just a few weeks after she was born.
Phil, on the other hand, was handling it very well. Dan had a thing where he could only handle so much. The rocking chair could only creak so many times and if she wasn’t quiet, he couldn’t do it. The same with bouncing her, burping. If it exceeded a certain limit and she wasn’t better, he would hand her off to Phil.
Luckily, she did usually calm down for Dan.
-Eight Months Old-
Rosie had been cutting her first teeth, and she wasn’t handling it well. She cried, day and night. Dan was beginning to pull his own hair out.
She would cry so hard she would throw up, which somehow solidified to both parents that she was in pain and there wasn’t much they could do but comfort her and pray it ended soon.
Phil sent Dan out of the house as soon as he saw his eyes well up with tears and she started in again after her Tylenol had worn off.
“Go to the store, get the good ice cream.” Phil whispered, already bouncing the whining baby on his hip.
He ran a bath, adding lavender scented bubbles to luke warm water. He gave her cooler baths now, as she would get so worked up from the crying.
She splashed around, finally quiet and her eyelashes were wet with residual tears.
He kept her in the plastic bathtub until the water was cold before prying her out and setting her down on her bedroom floor to dress her.
The crying started almost immediately. He was so patient with her though, taking a deep breath before trying to secure a nappy on her and rub lotion where she had dry skin.
“I know your teeth hurt, baby.” He whispered, rubbing her already warm head. “Let’s get a bottle and some medicine, and get you into bed, yeah?”
He read in a baby book that you should talk to babies like they are adults. Talk them through things.
She fussed the entire time he scooped formula into the bottle and the whole way back to the nursery. She rubbed her eyes with tight fists and wrestled with Phil to not be seated into a comfortable position. He laid her favorite blanket down over her and settled the nipple of the bottle between her sore gums.
She finished the entire bottle. Usually, she’d make it halfway through and then fall asleep.
Once she finished, he sat her up and gave her a dose of medicine, before pulling her close to his chest and rocking back and forth.
He debated giving her the pacifier they successfully weaned her off of just a few weeks ago. She grasped his pointer finger and brought it to her mouth. Usually he would not let her, since he wasn’t always one hundred percent sure of what all germs had collected on his hand since the last time he washed them. He let her this time, though. As soon as he felt her gums she quieted down and snuggled into his shirt.
The lights were dim and she was asleep in no time. Dan returned, sock clad feet on hardwood floors. He peered into the nursery, and smiled to himself.
Phil was smiling proudly.
-Two and a Half-
The terrible twos were actually terrible, much to both parent’s dismay. Rosie slept less and less everyday. They took their pediatrician's advice of putting her to bed later in hopes that she might sleep later in the day, but now they weren’t in bed until well after eleven and she was still calling for them at five in the morning. She rarely napped.
They were tired.
That doesn’t even mention all the “exploring” she’d been doing. Instead of saying “misbehavior” they try to use different words to avoid crushing her curiosity. That, however, had caused many toothbrushes and contact case’s to be flushed down the toilet, many toys to be strewn everywhere, and many tantrums when she didn’t get her way.
Phil was back at it again with his seemingly never ending patience. Dan handled her much better, but he took care of day time Rosie. He was the one to cook her breakfast and lunch, making sure she didn’t hurt herself until about dinner, which is where Phil took over to give Dan a break. Phil would handle her until she went to bed, which was usually the early hours of the morning.
She was being more defiant then usual tonight, however. Dan had cleared the table and Phil was trying to coax her into taking a bath, which she stomped her foot and protested about. He kept giving her choices, like all the parents on Tik Tok told him too, but she was covered in pasta sauce, she had to have a bath.
“Rosie, look at me,” He got down onto her level, trying to force those brown orbs to peer up into his. They were already filled with tears. “I know you don’t want to take a bath, but sweetheart you’d feel so much better if you did.”
Tears leaked out her big eyes, and he just sighed before picking her up and pressing a kiss to Dan’s forehead.
“She got your emotional stability.” He joked, patting the child on the back.
“Yeah, but she’s got your stubbornness.” Dan stuck his tongue out to him.
Phil’s mental fuse was wearing down, he felt much like Dan in the early days. Tears are always ready to fall whenever she gets tough.
She kicked and screamed the whole way to the bathroom, which is where he stopped and set her down.
He was about to have a meltdown of his own, and his shift with her hadn’t even really begun.
“Rosie,” He called to her. He looked down and sat down and covered her face with her tiny hands, crying harder and harder.
Phil just set up against the vanity and cried too, frustrated and at a loss of what to do. He was tired of everything being a fight with her.
“Rosie, please stop crying.” He mumbled out, before he heard something that resembled “I hate you” come out of her little mouth.
Shock consumed him. He had no idea where she even learned such a word, but it spilled out of mouth and was now infront of him.
He stood up and left the bathroom, closing the door and leaving her there to cry herself out of whatever was happening in her mind.
Dan was putting detergent into the dishwasher when Phil walked into the kitchen and blinked blankly a few times before Dan turned around.
“What’s wrong?” Dan peered over to him with worry. He closed the dishwasher door and walked over to Phil.
“She said she hated me,”
Silence fell over the room.
“She didn’t mean it to be love, she doesn’t know what it means. She’s just feeling a lot of things right now and she doesn’t know how to handle it. She’s much like I was in when she was born.” He rubbed a reassuring hand up and down his back.
“Won’t you go and lay her out some pajamas and I will give her the bath.”
Phil pulled her favorite footie’s from the wash and laid it out, along with her brush and lotion. He peered across the nursery, it had changed so much in such a short period of time, but the rocking chair remained in the corner, already yellowing from spit up.
Before long, the dark, curly haired toddler stumbled into the room, her hair wet from her bath. She let Phil brush her hair and put lotion on her face. She had worn herself out from her tantrum. Dan walked in a few minutes later, sippy cup in one hand and her blanket in the other.
Dan sat on the ottoman while Phil in the chair, and they both read a picture book to the now dozing toddler. Phil just sat and rocked her for a solid hour afterwards, finally enjoying her being quiet and chill for once. Dan just giggled and kissed Phil, pushing the hair back out of his face.
“Thanks for sacrificing your rest time to take care of me,” Phil whispered.
Dan just smiled and rubbed his shoulder.
-Six Years Old-
Rosie hated school.
This was the second day she came home from school, lip pouted out and trembling. She got home from school and was already pulling Phil to the rocking chair, blanket up by her face and thumb in her mouth. Phil pulled her into his lap and she tucked her head right into his neck, the soft sucking sound filling the quiet air.
He rocked her back in forth until her quiet tears dried and she peaked her head up.
“Rosie, when I was your age, I hated school too.”
Her big eyes looked up to him.
“And I would beg Mema to let me stay home. She always told me, ‘Philly, you can’t quit just yet. Give it a few more weeks.”
“Why can’t I just stay here?” Her voice was low and quiet, grasping his t-shirt in her tiny fist.
“You’ll learn soon enough how much of a privilege it is for you to attend school, sweetheart. Maybe right now you don’t, and if you still feel this way in a few months we will see about maybe homeschool or something. Just keep trying, alright?”
She nodded her head after a few minutes, and Phil continued to rock back and forth as her grasp loosened and her thumb eventually fell slack. He continued to rock her until the room transitioned to a soft orange, and Dan would stumble in from the kitchen, a smile appearing on his face as soon as he saw it was in the corner.
“You know, I just made her favorite dinner too.” He whispered, “Slaved over it really,”.
Phil grinned and chuckled softly. “Spaghetti is hardly labor, Daniel. But I’m sure you can tuck it in the fridge and she can eat it tomorrow. Or everyday, she does love it.”
-Eleven Years Old-
As men, Dan and Phil collectively “forgot” about female puberty.
It was in the back of their mind after Rosie’s eleventh birthday and she complained of chest pain and her pants fitting oddly in the hips. She knew what puberty was, the whole not “misbehaviour” but “curiosity” thing.
Dan didn’t expect to be shook awake at about 3:30 on a Wednesday morning, only falling asleep a few hours early, by his daughter.
“Are you bleeding? A fire?” He mumbled, a little angry for being awoken.
“Yes, actually.” She mumbled.
Dan sat straight up. “FIRE?!”
This woke Phil up.
“No, no. There’s blood on my sheets and my pajama bottoms. I-I don’t really know where it’s coming from.”
Phil, still out of it, said “So no fire?”
“Shut up Phil.” Dan whisper-yelled at him, and then turned back to his only slightly distraught daughter. “Remember when we talked about periods, kiddo? About the whole monthly bleeding thing?”
“Oh… that?”
“Yes dear.”
Phil went to her room to strip her sheets and put a clean set on, straightening her comforter in the process, while Dan was squatted up underneath the bathroom sink.
“I won’t lie, Daddy and I weren’t super prepared for this.” He laughed, and she smiled down at him. “Kind of figure it would happen at school or maybe a few years from now.”
He was looking for a small metal pail that the boys had kept for a long time, having a few feminine items in it. He finally spotted it, pulling it forward and setting it up on the sink. “I think there'll be easiest for now,” He handed her obnoxiously colored pads. “Do you know what to do with them?”
She nodded. “Kind of sex explanatory.”
“Right… Do you have the extra set of PJ’s?” She responded by holding them up in her other hand.
“Perfect, let me know if you need anything.”
She emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, Dan already back in bed and Phil settled into her rocking chair.
She looked at him, her eyes glazed over with a few leaking tears.
“What’s wrong kiddo?” He cocked his head to the side. She made her way over and settled in his lap.
“I’m too young,” She whispered and Phil lifted a hand to smooth her brown curls.
“I’m afraid it could’ve happened a few years ago.” She just gave him a dirty look.
“It doesn’t mean anything, baby. You don’t have to pack up your toys or get rid of your stuffed animals. It’s just another stage in life you’re faced with. I can’t promise Dan and I have good answers, but if you have any questions for us, don’t be scared to ask. We don’t want to be scared. I’m sure he hooked you up with the emergency kit. We’ll get you your own stuff later today, you can stay home if you’d like.”
She smiled and her cheeks burned.
“Thank you,” She mumbled, “It’s also just a bit embarrassing.”
Phil gently pushed her shoulder into his chest, her head finding it’s spot in the crook of his neck.
“I imagine so, nothing about puberty isn’t a little embarrassing.”
“My tummy started hurting a few days ago, but I didn’t think it was this. I guess so,” She laughed.
-Sixteen Years Old-
Rosie was having boy trouble.
She had liked the same boy for several years now, and he barely even noticed her. She would sit and psych herself out on made up scenarios in her head.
This meant that, after years of not sitting on Phil's lap, she found herself back in the now dull rocking chair that creaked with every movement. Both of her parents had greyed immensely and complained of their bones hurting from time to time.
But she still found herself being comforted by the two people she loved the most, the two that never hated her and that would always be there with a warm drink too many anecdotes for two people.
“You should just talk to him,” Phil suggested for the millionth time.
“That’s hard for me though,”
“I know hon, but you’re never gonna get anywhere if you don’t. You can’t just wait for something to happen and expect it to actually work. He’s super nerdy, he’d definitely say yes.”
“I don’t know,” She mumbled.
“You’ve grown up so much,” Phil whispered, “I used to read books and feed you in this chair, and now we talk about boys and growing up in it. You’ve come so far in your short life Rosie. Don’t feel like you can’t do anything, because you’re strong. If he fails to see that, then he does. Move on and try again.”
She just nodded and curled herself up to him, her long legs dangling off the edge of the rocker, her torso taking up the rest.