Dad.

I break from our regularly scheduled programming—the Jeff-and-Amie love fest, if you remember—to wish a happy birthday to one of my favorite people, my dad. Here are a few of the reasons why I’m crazy about him, just the first ones that popped into my head:

· He used to lie on the foot of my bed and read to me from a comic-book-style Bible with my panda puppet on his hand.

· He sings all the time when going through the house, usually hymns—hymns which have become incredibly precious to me, due to his and my mom’s influence.

· He takes the worst for himself and offers the best to Mom, my sister, Jeff, and me.

· He started a tradition nine years ago of “family game night,” which was on Fridays until I moved out, Sundays until Jeff and I moved to Virginia, and whenever we can now that we live 7 hours apart.

· Once upon a time, he separated a plastic blue egg and put one half on each of his eyes before “reading” a book to me.

· He keeps himself healthy, eating sensibly and working out regularly.

· He taught me about football.

· He taught me about God.

· He taught me how to teach.

· He listens to me rant and rave about anything I want to rant and rave about.

· He has a lot of really funny facial expressions and will let you take pictures of them if you’re fast enough.

· He has a believable “courtesy laugh” for when your joke isn’t funny but he doesn’t want you to feel awkward. I have yet to master this talent.

· He listens when people talk.

· He opens the door for my mom anytime they go anywhere, and he walks beside or slightly behind her.

· He’s hysterically funny.

· He’s almost always right about everything.

· He understands people and things to their very core.

· He’s a role model in every sense of the word.

· He loves my mom more than he loves himself.

· He loves my husband.

· He loves my sister.

· He loves me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! I love you so much and hope to be a lot like you when I grow up.