Temporary? Insanity

My dad? He’s a pretty fabulous dad. He was the kind of dad that gave horsey rides no matter how tired he was. Who would toss us in the air till our heads bonked the ceiling beams and help us keep such things secret from our mum so we could do it again later. He would tickle us till we peed and then laugh like mad when we got in trouble for it. He let the grass grow all summer one year so we could play hide-and-go-seek in the backyard turned jungle.

Apart from being fun he’s always been such a good guy. Seriously. The kind of guy that’d drop everything to help someone else. He rarely yelled, being a pretty quiet spoken kind of guy, but what got him riled was cruelty. He couldn’t stand to see us kids being mean to each other. He tolerated other things fairly well, but not that. I’ve never known him to speak unkindly about someone (excepting perhaps his mother-in-law on one or two unguarded occasions).

He’s an example to me.

He and mum were up visiting this weekend and it was all sorts of loveliness. Including Dad installing three new light fixtures and assembling a porch swing for us. He’s a generous, giving sort of guy, and I feel lucky to have been raised by him, and hopeful that someday I’ll put aside my self-absorbed ways enough to be just a little bit like him.

As grateful as I am for him, I’m grateful for Neil perhaps a wee little bit more. Maybe because I care about my girls more than I could ever care about me and my siblings. Maybe because I love him in that want to spend all eternity with him sort of way. I don’t know. But I’m constantly amazed by him. By his patience, his fun loving nature, his generousity.

I love that he knows how to be silly. That I’ve seen him do ballet moves while dancing with our girls in the living room. That he does funny voices when he plays with them or reads them stories. I love that he’s a parent in the true sense of the word. Not content with a role in the audience, he actually participates in the raising of our children.

I know so many woman who aren’t so lucky, and I feel a bit awkward sometimes because of how lucky I struck it.

Maybe I can endeavor to deserve him someday. Here’s hoping my first attempt at meatloaf (something he’s been hankering after for about a year now and I’m only just getting around to making) turns out well.

Good thing is that if nothing else, his love for his kids will keep him loving their mum even if she serves him up a charred black mass of yuckiness for Father’s Day Dinner tonight.

Still. A few prayers wouldn’t go amiss.