Other days I'm overwhelmed with all that he is. I'm flabbergasted that our children are immersed in him every day, learning how to be: parent, friend, giver.
He is far from perfect, yet ... perfect. Over the last many months he has made a deliberate effort to openly speak his failures to our children, and then openly admit when he does the work (or doesn't) to repair those thing.
Such strength. Such vulnerability. Such bravery. Such love.
As I typed the first few sentences, I watched him turn on old Loony Toons and yell, "Kids, you can come watch cartoons with me!" Then the double-wide began to rumble as they all came trampling in, with their lunch in hand. Eating in the floor, surrounding their dad. Cracking up over Foghorn Leghorn.
It's the scattered, little moments that change the lives of children. It's the genuine enthusiasm of a father that speaks love into their hearts. It's being real and vulnerable that makes a perfect father, even in the midst of imperfection.
Happy Father's Day, Michael. You are amazing.
I leave you with a perfect picture of how he functions ... like a rock ... in the middle of this crazy.