He was mildly distracted at the moment by the baby making a burbling sound, but he looked down at that movement, then looked at her face. He said nothing, merely squeezed her hand in return. If she was worried, he'd be there to back her up. It was, after all, tradition between them, really.

The baby was in a comfortable sling, around his chest, hands a-grasping. There was definitely parts of him in that kid, he wagered.

"You do realize that if your genetics are in this kid, she'll have disassembled the crib before we know what hit us. Maybe remade it into a tasteful glider."