the best polaroid in the world

Sitting on my desk is the best polaroid in the world.  A little me, hair in braids, a romper with ties at the shoulders, arms flung around my Dad's neck.  

Yesterday I called home to talk to my parents, and my Mom wasn't home.  This meant that Dad, who usually hands the phone over to Mom immediately as "the more qualified parent" (his impression of things, not mine!) was the only one home, and subsequently we talked on the phone for almost an hour.

I shared my worries about money, about the fact that I over-fertilized our lawn through my ineptitude and thus have probably killed it, about a certain daughter's tantrum I wasn't sure I had responded to correctly.  He listened, as he always has, never too quick to dole out excessive amounts of advice, but always ready with empathy and reassurances that things tends to work out well enough in the end.  And when he does offer advice, it's always good.

{I wrote this about my Dad three years ago, all of which is as true today as it was then!}

Happy Father's Day to the best Dad a girl could have.

~ ~ ~

And Happy Father's Day to the best Dad my own two girls could have, too.  He managed to come home from work a little earlier than usual today so he could play music with the girls, share a pizza dinner with us, and even pose for a picture with minimal complaining.

Marie learned to say "Happy Daddy Day" for the occasion.

Where would the world be without good fathers?

Happy Daddy Day, indeed.