I have come to realise that as cool as I am and as much time as I spend with the kids, I will never be Dad. Dad has a special something, a cool that only he can achieve. Husband clearly knows this and thrives on the adoration he sees in those little eyes. Only Dad can throw them in the air in just the right way or give proper training in fencing techniques. Here, as an aside, I must mention that though I try to be a capable combatant when Wrigglebot passes me the stick, I fail miserably and end up being hurt by a two year old because my defense is weak, or so Husband says.

Dad is the one they go running to when he comes home, he is the one they search for when they want to be chased and wrestled. And now, here’s the scary thing, he’s the one they copy. Wrigglebot is at a very impressionable age and he loves his Dad so much that he can’t help but want to be like him. Now I too love Husband so it isn’t a very big deal except that I am starting to hear another ridiculously loud booming laugh around the house. A laugh that interrupts everything you are doing and when we’re out it makes everybody around stop and look. They marvel that such a booming laugh comes from such a little boy and I just shrug and point at Husband who can’t help but laugh and then they understand.

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family by chelle