His birthday is about a week and a half before Father's Day, so he gets a little spoiled during June. It's one of the many many reasons my family believes in the birthday month.
I really call him "Dad". But he refers to himself as D.O.D. [dear.old.dad]. I'm not sure where he came up with that... but it's how he signs all my cards.
I'm a pretty big fan of his. He cracks me up all the time. He e-mails me pictures of his feet and texts me the scores of hockey games. Sometimes he calls me on accident when he's trying to call my brother. His office has control of all the security surveillance for the building, and last year he saved a video of himself falling in the foyer so he [and everyone else] could watch it. Repeatedly.
For Father's Day this year I sent him a bag of cinnamon bears and black licorice. I love cinnamon bears. I hate black licorice. We both love RedVines too, but those tubs are hard to ship.
I've always been his little princess. It helped that I'm the only little princess.
I got my big feet from him. And my love for puppies. And lots of other traits too. All of the ones my mom swears I didn't get from her.
He's a pretty awesome dad. I sure love him a lot.
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