Kids, your father is a gem. He is a man of service. He gets up in the morning and helps with breakfast. Sometimes ... he even jumps out of bed as soon as the kids start making noise to whisk them away while I drool on my pillow an extra hour.
He then goes to work and helps all sorts of people's bodies to heal themselves. Not to mention healing Dr. Holland's paperwork crisis.
He then comes home, and takes absolute joy in seeing his family again. Mac, he plays with you nonstop. Baseball? Absolutely. Wrestling? You bet. Plants vs. Zombies? Of course. And Belle, you butter him up more than any girl in the world. He comes home and wrestles you as gently as can be and loves to mimic every little sound you make. (Except for the screeching.) You two had a rough start what with your constant colicky sounds and his lack of mammary glands, but these days your father has made winning your love serious business. It's working.
Not only is he wonderful with you two, he's a great help around the house. He likes what I cook for him (90% of the time) and then cleans things up. Of course, he's said many times how excited he is to teach Mac how to do dishes, but still ... he does them for me.
The man is not afraid to pitch in and make this house his home too, and I really truly appreciate that. We've definitely got a balance going that works.
Plus, I still love looking at him.
I remember back in my single days coming to terms with the fact that I would probably marry a semi-attractive man, because they were the ones that turned out right.
But then I met this fellow ... whom I initially considered to be great eye-candy.
Turns out he's the whole kit and caboodle.
Your father has told me several times how much he loves this blog, but to please keep him out of it. And yes, you darlings take up 98% of my posts.
But (shhhhh) don't tell him ... that extra two percent has been reserved just for him.
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