THANK YOU

Somehow it slipped my mind. Somewhere along the way, I forgot when she first told me she loved me. I’ve misplaced the memory when she first said the words without being prompted or said them in return to my own. There have been several times since, of course, and they sprinkle my thoughts like confetti forcing smiles to the surface... a cause for celebration, without a doubt.

The other day she crawled in my lap, as she does, and tucked her feet in making herself comfortable. We asked and answered random questions as they presented themselves and we had silent conversations between. We had a thumb war and told “knock knock” jokes just for fun because it was one of those days where we had nowhere to be.

Before long she hopped up and I planted a kiss on her forehead and told her I loved her then she skipped off. She rummaged through something in the kitchen and I pictured her trying desperately to sneak a snack while being quiet and failing miserably. Adorably. She ran back towards me and gave a wet kiss on my cheek. I could smell the veggie straws on her breath. “Thank you,” she said.

I assumed she was talking about the snack I silently agreed to or the snack she was about to ask for or the mess from her snack she wanted me to clean up. Maybe she was thanking me for the snack we were about to share because suddenly I was hungry and she seems to sense these things. “For what?” I asked. “What are you thanking me for?”

She let the dog lick salty crumbs from her fingers and she smiled at him then at me. “For loving me and for being my Daddy, for everything,” she said. “Thank you.” She crawled back into the chair, still wearing her pink pajamas with the gray polka dots, and I tried unsuccessfully to pause time. Being her father is the greatest accomplishment of my life. She doesn’t have to thank me, but I’ll never forget the time she did.