Hero

Updated to add:  I posted this picture last night, too tired to write a caption for a moment that resonated so strongly with me. Now, with napping children (sigh), I'll elaborate.

I grew up with a playful father.  I presume many of us did.  My dad spent much of my early childhood doing things other adults wouldn't do for me, like outstretch his arms and flex his biceps so I could swing from them like a monkey.  He'd let me ride on his back as he crawled around on his hands and knees like a horse and tested me to see much bucking I could handle before I fell off, laughing hysterically.  He let me ride with him and pretend to steer as he drove the tractor.  He bounced me on his lap as he composed me silly songs on the piano.  He played practical jokes.  He was big and strong and lovable and he relentlessly made me laugh.

Yesterday, a delighted Emery climbed into her father's lap as he playfully joked with her and helped her play the mandolin (her most favorite thing).  I smiled at her in understanding, well knowing what it's like to have your hero for a father.