Lucky

Dear Riley, I know you do, but on those days down the road when you are mad at your dad for some reason, I hope you realize how lucky you are to have a dad like him. I am struck by this often, but particularly tonight as I sat at a party and watched from afar as he threw pitch after pitch to you and all of the other children for hours as afternoon turned to evening and evening turned to dusk. There might be a lot of dads that would do this, I don't know, but I don't think there are many who would do it with the enthusiasm of your dad, making up silly rules ("you can't hit the ball until you recite the one rule - no hitting the pitcher"), announcing each batter, falling over when a ball came anywhere near him, hooting and hollering each time a child made contact with the ball, and just genuinely loving the experience of spending time with you and your friends. You could tell that all of the other kids adore him and I couldn't help but think that your daddy is the "cool dad," the one that they all wish they had. The one that not only spends time with his kid, but also clearly has no place he'd rather be. As I watched you all playing, I couldn't help but notice the look in your daddy's eyes -- a combination of happiness, contentedness, mischievousness and pride -- and I felt so happy for you that of all the daddy's in the world, you get the privilege of calling him yours.