September 13
To say that the littles love their daddy is an understatement. Of course, how can I not love him? He wraps them up in a blanket and then roll them out again, he calls it a burrito. He and I will swing them back and forth in a blanket, which we call a taco. He flies them up the stairs when it's time to go to bed and he tells them stories about a worm with a mustache or an Old Joe story every night. When the squeaky door from the garage into the laundry room opens, the kids start running towards the laundry room before he can even make it into the kitchen. I hope someday they recognize how lucky they are to have him.
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