When my son decided that he wanted to be born into this world at 3:30am, it was good old dad that calmly packed everyone into the car and got everyone to the hospital.
When he was finally born and had to go to the NICU, it was good old dad that went with him every step of the way, letting every medical personal know that if something happened to my son I would be putting some foot up some asses.
When he got home to his new room, yup, again it was good old dad, the old man himself, that made sure it was painted manly colors for him.
As time went on, it was always good old dad that continued to come through. I quit my job so I could raise him right, make sure he said his yes ma'ams and no sirs.
When he would wake up at 3:00AM every morning for the first 4 months of his life to get a nice bottle or warm milk, who do you think did that? Every night, without missing a beat, it was dad. And during those long night hours, who introduced him to the greatness of Star Trek? It sure wasn't mom, she hates it. No, it was dad that told him for the first time what the prime directive was and what it meant.
Every shot he has had to get, I was the one that took him and held him. He had to have a skin biopsy at one point and again it was dad that was with him. But Dad was there, he was tough for you, he didn't let you go. And when he needed something to bite down on, who do you think offered him the leather belt? That's something that mom's just don't know how to do.
Hossmom had to go for a month to start the new job and again it was good old dad that stayed behind to make sure the family was going to be ok. And during that 30 days that we had with just us, it was dad that introduced him to the awesomeness of Popsicles in the bathtub. Hossmom is to practical for that. Dad obviously isn't. My immaturity combined with my total lack of impulse control means that I am awesome to anyone under the age of 10.
Time went on but Dad stayed here, always ready to show you the world, teach you how to handle it, and give you a big high five when you whipped a little ass.
He's a year old now and I'm still here by his side. Sometimes I think a little to much, but it's ok, I love my boy.
There are days when honest to god he won't let go of my pants leg. Hey, I understand that. Dad knows what its like to be shy and Dad has always got your back. I'm the best wingman you are ever going to have.
And when his sister was pounding on him a little to much, taking advantage of his little stature, who do you think helped him out. He would have never gotten that little plastic baseball bat if it wasn't for me. Hell no Hossmom wouldn't have gone for that much less taught him how to swing it. From the hips boy, from the hips.
I know everything about my son. His favorite movie is Bee movie. His favorite food is chips. His favorite past time is climbing up on me like I'm Mt. St. Helen's and then jumping off without a care because he knows that Dad will always catch him, every time.
I bought him his first toy. I took him to his first outing. His first time to the zoo was with me.
He won't go to bed unless I am the one that puts him down. He won't eat unless I am nearby. When he is upset, he grabs for me and only me.
He said his first word a couple of days ago.
He said "Mama."
Sigh. I suppose that's the way it should be, I love her a lot too.