365: Day 26- Proud Papa

Pat on the back

Tell someone you’re proud of just how proud you are.

This can be read two ways.

Scenario 1:  You are kindly reinforcing the pride you feel in another individual.

Scenario 2:  You are telling someone about your satisfaction with your arrogance.

If those two scenario assessments don’t make sense, read the prompt again, closely.

I will go with Scenario 1.

I love my little baby girl.  She is full of life, wit, and sweetness that amazingly fits into a little less than two and a half years.  Everyday  this summer, I have been able to stay home with her.  We have read many books, built many towers, eaten much fake food, gone on many tricycle adventures, and traveled often to the park, in addition to a variety of other activities.  It’s been awesome.

We have laughed a lot, cried some (mainly her), and spoken countless words.  Her vocabulary is breathtakingly spectacular.  I love when she surprises me with something like “This is my area.”  Being able to communicate verbally is a much appreciated treat.

But what I am proud of most is her compassion.  When she sees me frustrated and puts her hand on my shoulder, consoling me with “It’s alright dada”, I melt into a lawn of smiles glistened with teary dew.  When she kisses the dog and eagerly gives her food, water, and treats, I see a growing heart.  When she adjusts herself to the tempo and predilections of different family members, I marvel at her empathy.  But the best part is when I lay my hand on her back at night and pray.  I can feel her relax and radiate security.  I know that shortly after the amen will come a “Love you, dada”.  For all those guys out there who leave their families for the street or Wall Street, for the ladies or the open road, I will try to put this nicely: you’re an idiot.  Much love.  Maybe some other time I will address Scenario 2, but not likely.

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