Happy Father’s Day to Casey, a.k.a. Daddy to Max and a daughter to be born in 10 weeks, starter of this blog, my feet on the ground, my partner in crime, my extra set of hands, and my provider of reality and perspective. Daddy doesn’t get much play these days with Max entering a clingy-to-mom toddler phase, but I know the day isn’t too far off when Max will idolize his Daddy and want to be just like him. (One of Max’s favorite games is trying on Casey’s shoes. He has discovered they are big shoes to fill, but undaunted, he keeps trying them on and stumbling forward with massive weights around each ankle, a huge grin on his face as he imagines looking just like Dad.) Max is a lucky boy because he has the best daddy around.
His daddy fixes what is broken, whether it is a running toilet or a bloody lip. He wears cargo pants (and, uh, occasionally a kilt) with pockets big enough for diapers, bottles, and toys. He teaches how to give bear hugs and that farts are funny. Daddy cleans the house and washes Max’s hands, even when he doesn’t agree that either are actually dirty. He gives swim lessons and figures out how to download Elmo videos to his iPhone. He stands by stoically while Max has medical tests done that Mama couldn’t bear to watch. His patience for reading and rereading Max’s favorite farm animal book is endless.
Casey, happy Father’s Day from Max, Baby #2 and me. We love you!