Father's Day

On Father's Day Mike spent the afternoon (and, in fact, is still working) on painting Michaela's new (to her) bed.

He sacrificed a steak dinner because my car keys went AWOL for the day (they mysteriously appeared while Christian and Eliana were playing a game on the stairs next to our entryway) (I have a suspicion that a certain, ahem, Mr. Nobody, or his elusive friend I. Dont Know, had a sudden attack of conscience), and I was looking for them all over. I checked the fridge, y'all.

He is the calm to my crazy. When I'm flipping out, he is usually not. I am very grateful for the steady, even-keeled dad that he is. The Lord knew these children would need Mike's wisdom and his brand of silly fun to balance out my offering of wisdom and silly fun. Hopefully, they each have their place.

So Mike, if you read this, know that one of my favorite things is watching you with our kids. When Eliana bounces at the door when you're trying to get inside, when Michaela dishes out a joke right back at you as quick as a blink, when Christian beams because he gets to help you with some tools on a project, I am delighted. They love you very much, and so do I.