Baby Bee calls him Papa. By her own choice. She can say Daddy, but she calls him Papa. He loves it.
We always thought we’d have a son, but really? I think he’s wonderfully suited to be a Daddy of only girls. Not that he wouldn’t have been a great Daddy to boys, but there’s something magical about the Daddy he is to little girls.
He is exactly what every little girl needs her Daddy to be. He’s sweet, playful and strong enough to carry a heavy five year old up the stairs to tuck into bed. He’s confident enough to love them. Outloud. With hand holding and skipping and hugs and kisses. He’s confident enough to admit that he’s been changed by them.
He’s selfless enough to put them first, which just isn’t a given in this great big world.
And, lucky for me, he loves their mother. Which, also, isn’t a given.
He supports me. He backs me up. He toils along with me. He gets up at 3 a.m. to comfort Baby Bee back into the sleep that is so hard for her to hold in her teeny little hands. He sings the “Stinky Girl” song. He plays possum baby. He submits to numerous indignities to make them happy.
He does this.
He was skipping. He was making my dream come true in this very second. Of course, he’s done that every day for the past 13 years.
He is the best partner I could have ever picked to walk into this crazy job with these three amazing kids and the only person who could have done it the exact way I’d want it done. And, he does it all without my saying a word.
When I wrote about our marriage, I wrote about how we chose each other. How we chose our marriage, but that’s not the only thing Big Daddy chooses. He chooses to be this guy. Every day.
Which is everything.
We love you, Big Daddy. More.
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