My Dad has style.
You can see it already.
He was a happy, cute baby.
And he’s a happy, cute man.
The older I get, and the more I know of him, the more I understand how very like him I am.
There’s our small writing:
Me: This is the smallest pen ever.
Dad: I can write smaller.
Me: I don’t think you can
Dad: They used to call me Captain Microfilm
Me: Can I take over the family name?
Dad: Maybe, probably, OK, sure
Me: Thanks.
Our mutual love of chocolate.
Believe it or not, I can’t find a picture of me like this, but believe you me, I’m eating chocolate right now.
And now I know he and I have a mutual disaffection for noisy atmospheres. We both break down mentally.
However, he is good with a knife and I am not.
And I didn’t inherit his impressive eyebrows.
He’s more mathematical than I’ll ever be, but I may have picked up some of his attention to detail – in artsy stuff, and construction.
I like the way he holds his hands like this:
I like that he asks for Legos for Christmas still. He spends Christmas morning at the table happily assembling his kits.
And I like this picture of us.
One of the things I love most about my dad at this point in my life is seeing him with my kids.
Melt my heart, joy of joys, to see the love in his eyes.
I love that I can tell him everything and that somehow he connects and has something to offer that makes my life make sense again.
I love you, Pops. Of course there’s more to say, but I can only do so much on a blog post. =)
