Scott & I heard a country song the other day about fathers and sons and the inevitable bond between the two.
The song made me tear up a little (as most country songs do these days), but I said to Scott, "Ya know, you can have that with the girls, too. Even though they're girls."
He gave me an answer that was something like "Duh, Katie."
But it got me thinking about the importance of the relationship between fathers and daughters. There are countless examples on this blog of my bond with my mother -- how I adore her and want to be just like her, but a lesser known fact is how much I adore my father.
Meet John. Or Dad, as I call him. Daddio, if I'm feeling spunky.
For a good chunk of my life, I was Daddy's little girl. I remember him telling me once that he thought he and I were a lot alike. I felt so proud of that.
My Dad is a strong, hilarious, hard-working, loving man.
He drinks Dr. Pepper like it's his job.
He watches Gunsmoke and any John Wayne movie.
He taught me how to play softball. How to throw, catch, bat. How to keep my glove to the ground. How to keep my back foot planted.
He is always willing to help. He jumps right in and tackles a job.
He loves his kids and my Mom to the moon and back.
He likes to go camping and fishing.
He is a fantastic grandfather.
And I'm proud to call him Dad.
Happy Belated Father's Day, Dad!