I watch as Diego nestles between us, his tiny hands gesturing wildly as he tells us about the dragon he saw in his picture book today. Even at 2, he’s already mastered the art of storytelling – something that makes me both proud and slightly concerned about future bedtime negotiations.
“Papi, the dragon was THIS big!” He stretches his arms as wide as they can go, nearly bopping Casandra on the nose. She catches his hand mid-swing, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm that makes him giggle.
My wife – even after five years of marriage, those words still fill me with wonder. Casandra looks radiant in the soft glow of our bedroom lamp, her German-Korean features somehow more beautiful now than when I first met her. Motherhood has added a depth to her that takes my breath away.
“Mi amor,” she says to Diego, running her fingers through his wavy brown hair – so much like mine, though his features are pure Casandra. “What do you love most about Papi and Mama?”
The question catches me off guard, reminding me of when she asked Carina the same thing two years ago. Our daughter, my perfect mini-me with touches of her mother’s grace, had given an answer that brought me to tears.
Diego scrunches up his face in that serious way he has, looking so much like his mother when she’s contemplating a difficult scene. “I love Papi and Mama because…” he pauses dramatically (definitely my son), “because you’re MY Papi and Mama!”
And just like that, I’m fighting back tears again. Casandra catches my eye over Diego’s head, her smile knowing and tender. She remembers too.
“That’s exactly what your sister said when she was little,” Casandra tells him, though Diego’s already drifting off, secure in the knowledge that he’s safely anchored between his parents.
Once his breathing evens out, I reach across him to take Casandra’s hand. “How did I get so lucky?” I whisper.
She squeezes my fingers. “You mean how did WE get so lucky? I wasn’t exactly planning to fall in love with my charming co-star who was thirteen years older than me.”
“Charming, huh?” I waggle my eyebrows, making her stifle a laugh to avoid waking Diego.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Pascal,” she teases, but her eyes are soft with love. “Though I have to admit, watching you with our children… it makes me fall in love with you all over again.”
“I was so scared,” I confess, something I can only tell her in these quiet moments. “Starting fatherhood at 45… I worried I’d be too old, too set in my ways.”
“And now?”
“Now I realize it’s beautiful chaos, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You gave me this family, mi vida. You gave me everything.”
Diego stirs slightly, mumbling something about dragons before settling again. We both freeze, well-practiced in the art of not disturbing a sleeping toddler.
“Remember our first date?” Casandra asks once he’s still again. “When you spilled wine all over your shirt and tried to play it off as a new fashion statement?”
“I was trying to impress the gorgeous young actress who somehow agreed to have dinner with me,” I defend myself, though I’m grinning at the memory. “I think I made up for it with my dancing skills later.”
“You mean when you stepped on my feet three times?”
“But with style!”
We share a quiet laugh, our fingers still intertwined over our sleeping son. In the room next door, I know Carina is dreaming, probably of the princess stories she loves so much. Our little family, complete in ways I never knew I needed until Casandra walked into my life.
“Te amo,” I whisper, bringing her hand to my lips.
“Ich liebe dich,” she replies, her German accent mixing beautifully with the Spanish she’s learned for me. “Now sleep, mi amor. Someone’s going to wake us up very early demanding pancakes.”
As I drift off, I think about how love doesn’t always look the way you expect it to. Sometimes it’s a 13-year age gap and cultural differences. Sometimes it’s spilled wine and stepped-on toes. And sometimes it’s perfect chaos with the woman of your dreams and two beautiful children who love you simply because you’re their Papi.