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September 21, 2014


"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."
Alfred Lord Tennyson


It’s difficult to remember a time where she didn’t find a way into my every thought, to recall a time when every idea wasn’t centered around her or inspired by her or because of her in some way. It’s strange to wonder what my thought process consisted of before she entered my life and scary to think it was all for nothing until she did. Parenting has a way of consuming you, of giving you purpose, of fertilizing the better part of yourself in hopes it can find a way to the surface… and bloom. This season of my life might just be my favorite yet.

September 18, 2014


I'm not sure if these are amusing to anyone else or just my wife, Allison, and me since we're her parents, but I have a feeling we'll look back one day enjoying that we captured some of Madison's random little comments (click here for more).

ME:  I love you.
MADISON:  I love your face.


Ending a call...
MADISON:  Who were you talking to on that phone?
ME:  Your mama.
MADISON:  Do you think she's buying a hat?


MADISON:  I love celebrations!
ME:  You do? What do you love about them?
MADISON:  The bubbles and cupcakes... but really the bubbles.


Tucked in bed at night...
ALLISON:  You look like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
MADISON:  No I don't because caterpillars don't have hands, silly.


ME:  I think you're pretty.
MADISON:  Oh! I thought I was Madison.

September 17, 2014


The blue water rippled as the breeze blew in inviting the sun to play with the sapphire undertones of the pool bottom. He watched from just over the fence as we introduced our subpar swimming techniques in hopes she would perfect them herself in due time. He watched a poorly executed breaststroke followed by a flailing attempt at floating. He watched as we splashed and laughed and dove and surfaced.

He watched without us knowing until our little swimmer pointed him out.

“Look!” she said. “That tree looks like a giant bug.” Her mother and I turned following the extension of her tiny index finger to what looked remotely like a large green bug, a tree with two antennae branching out from his shrub of a head.  In three year old terms, it was definitely an insect and a big one at that. “Get it, Daddy,” she said. “Get that bug!”

I made my way over to the fence with drops of water surrendering to gravity with every step I made and once in front of what could be considered the largest tree bug I’ve ever seen, I pretended to get its attention and swat it then squash it. Content in my effort, I turned to see the disappointed face of a little girl who immediately exclaimed that she wanted to do it. “Let me show him my Elsa power,” she said.

Then her mother and I sat back to see our daughter unleash imaginary powers of ice and snow and flakes of fury upon a tree with unfortunately placed limbs. She opened her palms and threw her arms in front of her with as much force as her toddler frame would allow, her wet hair curling under the heat of the summer sun overhead. She turned and smiled directly at us, “I got that bug,” she said.

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