When I was 4, my dad got into the inflatable jumpy-thingee with me.
When I was six, he held me down while they had to put stitches in my foot.
When I was 10, he taught me all there was to know about Lewis and Clark and then some!
When I was 12, he helped me build the Grand Prize winning science project.
When I was 14, he tried all he could to help me understand algebra (nice try, Dad, but it still hasn't stuck).
When I was 16 he played referee between me and my mom.
When I was 20, he walked with me and put his arm around me while I cried over a boy.
When I was 23, he walked me down the aisle.
When I was 24 I made him a Grandpa.
He is not perfect....the most romantic gift he ever gave my mother was a quilt rack, and he spent more of his time on his teaching job than he did us a lot of the times...but I knew grewing up that I would be lucky if I could find a man half of what he was to be the father of my kids.
My dad is techno-afraid to a fault. He still cannot figure out the call waiting on the telephone. So I know there will never be a day when he will even read my blog.
But with all the things that have happened this past week, and how tired he looked yesterday at our Father's Day BBQ, I hope he knows that I love him more than Lewis probably got tired of hearing Clark snore.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there!