I love the way this family seems to enjoy time with each other. This morning, I crawled up through the cabinet like I do, to see a small dance party going on in the lounge. The six-year-old girl had her multi-colored tutu skirt on, holding hands with her big strong dad, jumping around while the ten-month-old smiled at me like he knew he was lucky to be in a family like this and he was glad I saw it.
I had my NZ version of Cheerios and listened as the girl asked if her dad would sing Katy Perry with her. Even though he knew I was taking in the show, he belted out “Firework” and the little girl was as content as one could be, sitting on her dad’s lap, reading from the CD pamphlet and thrilled that she knew the words. There’s something so special about father daughter time. There’s something really special about a dad who genuinely enjoys time with his kids. My dad is one of those and John, Greg, and I are so blessed. (And Billy Dean/Lee McKinney comes to mind right away. I love Erica’s stories about her fun-filled childhood.)
I’m so thankful for my grandparents who raised four amazing kids to be four extraordinary adults. They made the long drive from NC to be with Grandpa (who recently had two strokes). Grandma said he’s full of one-liners and he’s being awfully sweet. My grandma is a strong, compassionate, lovely woman. I’m feeling very blessed this morning when I think about my family.