“Oh, come on Claires. Just go to sleep.” Jim held the screaming infant, trying to calm her down, but no such luck. Jim silently cursed Pam, who had gone to New York for an art conference, and left him at home with the colicky baby. He had tried everything to stop the crying. It broke his heart that his little girl was in pain, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

            Jim fell exhausted into a chair, with Claire still crying. “Okay, Littles. Let’s just look out the window now. Look at all the cars.”
            Slowly, Claire’s screams died down into whimpers as she watched the headlights zoom past. Jim grew grateful for the road. When they had purchased the house, they hadn’t realized just how close it was to the interstate, and had complained about the constant noise ever since. But as Jim watched his little girl, he realized there were worse noises than the constant drone of the highway.

            The next few nights were more of the same. As soon as it was dark enough, Jim settled in with Claire by the widow. The headlights held their magic. Hours would pass, and Claire would drift slowly to sleep. This was their time – their fist father-daughter bonding activity.