Being a dad is almost nothing like being a mom.  It’s like comparing apples to oranges.  Sure, they’re both fruit, but that’s where the comparison ends.  Moms are generally nervous creatures, always hovering over the children and fretting about how much they’re eating.  Dads on the other hand, they’re meat and potatoes of the family.  They both bring the bacon and tickle the daylights out of the kids.  Generally speaking, of course.  Sure there are families where the mom brings the bacon while the dad hovers and there are families where there aren’t any dads at all.  In our family, dad definitely brings the bacon and mom definitely hovers.  I can admit that.  I’m a big enough person.

But in our family, I wager that Kile does more than most dads do.  He makes dinner every night, just about.  He does the dishes, even (now that we’ve switched up who does trash and who does dishes; though I won’t talk about how many dishes are in the sink this very minute).  He gives Liam his bath while I wait with a towel to “catch”.   We take turns with who gets up with Liam in the night and he’s been known to prepare a bottle and change a diaper or two during the day.  I know that I don’t thank him for his contribution near enough and that I should say something at least once a day.  But you know how it is.  You get caught up in the daily grind and the opportunities to be grateful pass you by if you don’t seek them out.

Kile is a fantastic dad.  Just ask Harry, he’ll tell you.  There are moments I think about being proud of picking out such a fine man to be a father to my children.  And then I realize that I have very little to be prideful of in this situation.  All I did was marry him, but he’s responsible for the man he is.  So in that respect, it’s all his doing.  He has made himself a wonderful man, a fantastic father.   I’m just lucky to be here to watch him with my kids.

So Happy Father’s Day to Kile, take a day off and put your feet up.  I’ll order the pizza.