Sick Sense of Pride

This morning, just after I walked out the door, my wife called me back because my two-year old daughter was crying for me.  She wanted to say one last good-bye before I left and had been calling my name as I walked out the door (she wanted to go outside too, but that's beside the point).  Even as I held my crying, broken-hearted little girl, I admit I should have felt more sympathetic and compassionate, but I couldn't overcome the sick sense of pride I felt in seeing how much of a daddy's girl she is. But, she knows she has me wrapped around her finger.