As I watched our daughter sleep soundly in the backseat, exhausted from a weekend full of lake activities, I found myself so overly grateful for the man behind the wheel. I may have given this man my heart many years ago, but he gave me something much greater in return- a beautiful girl with his olive skin and infectious grin and a penchant for dancing for no reason at all.
I could never thank him enough for giving me the world in the perfect form of our daughter.
Are you ever so unbelievably happy that it almost makes you sad because you think it can't possibly get any better? I'm there. I spent the weekend surrounded by my family, celebrating three great men (and missing my Poppy in Tampa) who have been and continue to be shining examples of what it means to be a dad.
(C got to spend some time with her Poppy while he was in town last weekend)
I watched my Big Daddy snuggle his great granddaughter, the same way he snuggled me 27 years ago.
I watched my dad play endlessly with his first grandchild with the same energy he had for my sister and me.
And I watched Husband, with the glow of new fatherhood still apparent over a year in, as he helped C slide down the elephant slide of my childhood over and over and over again, his complete focus and joy never waning. These are real men.
I consider myself lucky to have grown up surrounded by such honesty, humility, and strength. To have learned how to ride a bike, balance a checkbook, and drive a car from these men. I am grateful to have such high standards by which I measured every boy I ever dated - and to have finally found one who measured up.
One day all too soon, Husband will teach C how to ride a bike, and to balance a checkbook, and to drive a car. And one day, she will look back on those moments fondly, as she watches him rock her own baby to sleep; and she will silently thank him for teaching her how to be strong and kind and careful all at the same time. Because that's the great thing about good fathers- their daughters will never outgrow their Daddy.
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