I've said before that Matt is Micah's most favoritest person in the entire world.
He is a daddy's boy through and through. And for good reason. Matt's the best dad I've ever witnessed in real life. He's loving, patient, kind, involved, funny, fun, interested, crazy, consistent, and he thinks his boys are the best sons to ever grace a father. (Which I agree.)
It makes my heart more joyful than I can express to watch Matt interact with his sons.
But here's the thing. What about me?
I don't think my sons realize they hit the Mother Lode (I hate puns, but there you go) when they got me for their mama. And in case you're wondering if I mean that, yes. Yes I do.
How many other mamas out there get hit with a craving for a Blizzard an hour before dinner, thus causing a cycle of events that culminate in a mom and her two boys in their bike trailer heading to quench said craving?
How many other mamas out there think that having a good time requires ice cream and slides and sunshine and airplane trips to get there if you have to?
How many other mamas think that pizza for lunch and ice cream for dinner are recommended by the Academy of Pediatrics?
(I'm noticing a theme here. Maybe having to do with ice cream.)
So I ask again, Dad of the Year, what about me?
When I lamented to Matt that I'm not one of those moms that create an entire themed day centered around Valentine's, he said, Yeah, but we're fun.
So there you go. I may be arrested by the Academy of Pediatrics and my boys may grow up thinking that ice cream is part of the Food Triangle and they may never see a heart-shaped pancake in their lifetime but at least they'll say we had fun.