“F” is for father…

Aaaaand fashionably late since this was technically yesterday’s letter…but hey, it was Sunday, gimme a break! (Autocorrect didn’t zing me on “gimme” guess they’re cool with that word, whoever “they” are…) Ok back to the letter “f”.

I shall try to make this only a little bit sappy but don’t expect much, I’m a daddy’s girl. Even though as a child it seemed normal to have a father you completely adored, who explored and played with you, commanded a healthy respect with the strength of his hand, and cuddled with you every single night reading bedtime stories and praying with you as you hung on his every word…I now know that not all little girls had this and that my experience was actually, quite unique. Although as a kid I still knew he wasn’t like other dads. I mean, did your dad come to your school every year to make hand painted kites with your class and then fly them all afternoon? Did he go on your 4th grade camping trip and earn (rightfully so as he is the master of the wilderness and was REI clad from head to toe) the nickname “Mr.Commando” earning the adoration of every child and as head ornithologist made fake footprints of dodo birds, pterodactyls, and other extinct or fictitious birds then made each camper hand drawn certificates for each discovery? Did your dad read to you every night no matter how many gross toilets he fixed that day or monkeys cages he cleaned, (he worked at a pharmaceutical company and sometimes had to clean up after the poor monkeys they tested drugs on-not condoning this people so don’t get all bent) classics like Tom Sawyer and Aesop’s Fables (of course all the while making us look up in the dictionary each word we didn’t know) I should note, some parents never read to their kids at all, like ever…(hehe inside joke with my in-laws). And did your dad (scarred from living within miles of the newly opened Disney World as a child and never getting to go) save up every penny possible for several years to take you on a week long, fun filled, and action packed dream trip to that magical place despite the fact that he and mom were simultaneously buying their first home and scraping together money and selling all their antiques to pay for closing costs when they could have easily used the “Disney fund”? Well, DID HE? Didn’t think so. So like I said, I knew he was great then but as I’ve grown into an adult, seen the world differently, and heard my friend’s experiences I realize even more how special it was to be “daddy’s girl”. That being said, it gets even better. Not everybody gets to be a daddy’s girl but even more rare, is to have two dads wrapped around your little finger. But I’m so happy and grateful to say I do. When I married my husband I didn’t just become a daughter in law, I became a daughter. A daughter to a man with only sons, whose tough exterior is easily melted with a sweet smile and gentle touch. A man who loves me as his own, is ALWAYS there when you need him, and asks only that I regularly quote lines from Moonstruck for his amusement. Not only that but the two of them are friends! Together they let me dress them, rave over and enjoy whatever I feed them, and inexplicably do what I tell them (listening to me sometimes even more than they do their own wives)! I promised not to make this too sappy and now it has (as well as becoming quite long). So in conclusion I’ll just say that “F” is for father and I’m so glad to have two.


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