I have a really awesome dad. He was home with his family every night, he (and my mom!) would take us on family vacations; road trips to Sundance or camping in Big Sur. My dad went to as many of my soccer games and track meets as he possibly could, and he played an active role, sometimes coaching, and other times just watching from the sidelines and timing my mile splits, cheering me on in those last 100m and so proud when I achieved a new personal record. Now and then he would flex his short temper but never held onto it, and his silly and intermittently embarrassing sense of humor made our house a fun and warm home.
But the thing about my father, for which I am so, SO grateful, is that because he was such a great dad, I knew how to pick, and marry, a great man (hey, Mamoo, thank YOU for doing the same!). I have a kind, loving and appreciative husband. He showers me with affection and compliments and readily apologizes if his demenor is less than sunny. And I have gotten so much joy in seeing that he, too, is a wonderful father.
Brent will read the most annoying books over and over again because Lexi loves them. He will run up and down the halls chasing our daughter, and then toss her in the air because he knows it is an easy way to make her laugh (and even though he knows his back will hurt that night!). After she falls asleep he will look at the video monitor and ask me how we made something so cute, and he gets overly concerned about little things that may affect her, worried about any disadvantage she may face.
I know that Lexi will grow up with the best father figure possible, someone who will hopefully give her the confidence to choose a partner that loves and respects her as much as her Daddy does. Having a great dad is a gift, something with which both me and my daughter have been blessed.