You know, you’re not really supposed to have “favorites” when it comes to love. Our family had a whole FHE lesson on how loving children was like loving candy bars with unlimited money – you wouldn’t just pick one, and you’d love them all. It’s not like you would be limited to loving one candy bar. Yes, seriously, we really had a lesson like that. Reece maintains that he must be the favorite child, given that he was actually NAMED after a candy bar. How embarrassing then, that we spelled his name wrong. So much for the favorite child. You’d think that parents who give that kind of FHE lesson would apply the same sort of idea to parents. You’d be surprised.
I’m the oldest kid in our family, and I didn’t come along until my parents had been married for 3 years. They thought they’d maybe never get to have any kids. (Bet you’re surprised about that one, eight kids later!) When I was little, I was definitely a daddy’s girl, and my Dad knew it. Just in case anyone else forgot it, he taught me to say “Love my Daddy best.” So much for the whole candy bar theory, right? Thank goodness my Mom was patient with him.
Cassie’s got me beat though. This week, she made “Love my Daddy best” seem like very. small. potatoes. She and Dad were doing dishes this week when I walked in on their conversation.
Cassie: “Dad, I’m going to be SO spoiled when I’m looking for a husband, because I’m going to want him to be as good looking and as hardworking as you. I’m not going to find ANYONE like that.”
Dad: “Well, it’s not time for that yet. But when it is, you’ll find someone.”
Cassie: “Oh, no I won’t. I will be too picky because of you.”
On Father’s Day today, I’m counting my blessings that I’ve got my Dad. He’s the best man I know, hands down. So even though Cassie’s got me beat, I’ll say it today – I love my Daddy best.
