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I couldn’t have asked for a better father to my kids.

From the moment we found out I was pregnant with Cobe, he pampered us. He was awake for the sleepless nights of breastfeeding a newborn. He changed poopy diapers without being asked and helped changed the sheets when a diaper leaked. He’s worn babies and caught vomit with his bare hands. He wrestles with them, plays hide and seek for hours and mows the lawn with the back-breaking work of letting a three year old “help”. He fixes the air conditioning at midnight and sleeps on the bottom bunk with a little one who is scared of a nightmare. He has more patience than I do for the never ending whys that accompany turning five. He’s come back from serious health issues and a car accident that almost did him in. He kisses and hugs and tickles their back (and mine). He reads to them and sings with them and coaches their soccer teams. He loves our kids more than anything else in this entire world and tells them so every day.

He’s our hero, cliche as that sounds. My boys will grow up with him paving the path and teaching them above all, how to be kind. And how to play.

Happy Father’s Day, Kyle. I thank the stars every night that I get to wake up next to you (unless you’re on the bottom bunk).