superstar

The other day Lucy fell. It was a bad bonk.
Dyami was home, and we both rushed over. I picked her up and went over to the couch. I tried to latch her on. Usually, nursing is the fastest way of getting her calmed down.
But she wouldn't latch on.
Dyami stepped over. "Let me have her," he said. Surprised, I watched as he scooped her up and went outside.
She was screaming. I half got up the couch. "Honey--" I started to say: what are you doing? You know that won't do any good! She needs milk, dammit!
I started to say these things, because Lucy's cry cut off abruptly as soon as they were outside. She still fussed for a few minutes more, but the urgency was gone.

I stood there for a minute, boob hanging out, wondering what had just happened. Was I happy or sad that she hadn't needed me?
Then I laughed. Was I hallucinating? My whole life is a fantasy about how eventually Lucy won't need me.

Dyami is a superstar.