You're familiar with this term from cop TV shows (cue the Law & Order sound). There is always the rough cop that shakes the perp up to rattle his cage, and then his soft-spoken partner comes in and calms things down so the perp will give up the goods. The Bad Cop is the grizzled vet who is always named something like Scagnetti, while the Good Cop is usually easier on the eyes and wears a nice Windsor knot.
Take a guess which role I have sloughed into? Dale Scagnetti reporting for duty.
It has only been 6 days and I have already become the bane of Benjamin's existence, and it mainly stems from the coldness of my hands. I could seriously make you a scoop of ice cream with some milk, rock salt and a little patience. They feel great to me, but to a newborn they contract every muscle fiber in their body and invoke a lip-quivering grimace.
So my duties include waking the baby up for feeding (quiver), keeping the baby awake after feeding (shudder), and swaddling him to go back to sleep (dad, quit touching me!). His interaction with Emily, however, teeters on reaching the 7th plane of nirvana. Her warm hands and body cradle him (ooh), he gets a nutritious milkshake every couple of hours (aah), and she is all-around more pleasing to the eyes and ears (mom, i wuv you).
I guess the one saving grace is that there is no Good Cop without Bad Cop, there would just be "cop." Much like other relationships (sun/moon, night/day, hot/cold) you have to one to appreciate/loathe the other. Maybe me and my hands will be more useful in the future when Benjamin is swoon with the flu or has eaten too much salsa. We'll see...now, who wants ice cream!?
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