My weeks usually follow a set pattern, MixTapeDay, TheHusbandGoesAwayDay, SleepDeprivedDay, LoadsOfBloggingDay, HomeNotesDay, CaptionDay, SilentDay. That, right there, is my life.
And then yesterday (that’s CaptionDay people) I forgot. And I had a photo all lined up and everything. One that was suitably humiliating and embarrassing and the kind of thing that I honestly question why I put it into such a public arena. All week my inner monologue was all ‘I must post that photo on CaptionDay’. And then I forgot. So I am saving it for next week. Maybe. I might have built it up too much now.
As I have already broken from tradition I’m going to continute to rampage like a mad thing all over my routine and post something non-silent on SilentDay. I’m not going to lie, it feels weird.
But today isn’t about me (are any?). This. This guy. And this girl.
And this. Just this.
Wait. And this.
I have known the husband for eight years. The husband – 8 = a boy of 18. Skinny everything, one chest hair and not mine. And then everything happened and he was mine and I made him a daddy when he gave me a daughter. He looks at her in a way that melts my insides, my soul, into a whithering pool of love and mush. He loves that kid and she idolises her daddy. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him but my god she does.
Look. Look how she looks at him. This look is one that is reserved for daddy and daddy only.
Happy fathers day to all the awesome daddys everywhere.
I bet your kid looks at you with exactly the same amount of love and hero worship. Savour it. And eat lots of chocolate, because you can, it’s your day.