They call you Daddy.
You are their wrestle partner, their safe place, their protector, their adventure guide, and their identity giver. You are their chore teacher, their constant encourager, their “I believe in you”, and their “come here I’ll keep you safe”.
You are the voice that says “you can do it”, “push hard”, and “try again”. You are the voice that says, “I’m proud of you”, “you did your best”, and “I love you”.
It doesn’t just take a father, it takes a daddy to be you.
You show up in the middle of the night to calm night mares and check warm foreheads. You are the one they run to first when they’re scared. They know you have their backs no matter what.
You are the one they turn to first (just to see your face) when they make the pass, clear the jump, and dance a special dance in the living room. They’re looking for the pride in your eyes, and they always find it.
When you speak they stand taller, they believe in themselves more, and they know their worth.
You and I, we do a lot of things differently. I have the way I tuck them in, and you have yours. I have the things are think are safe (and unsafe) and you have yours. I have the way I cut their meat and what I think they need to have for dinner. You have the way you teach them to be hard workers and the way you teach them to be brave.
You and I, we do things differently, but I trust you implicitly. I trust you implicitly because they call you Daddy and takes a whole lot to be you.