Happy Birthday to my maker
The first person who ever thought I was funny.
The guy who sculpture my identity more than he or I could have ever imagined.
The human who has received the most crying phone calls from me.
Someone I took my bad moods on on when I was young.
The adult who had to pull all the blankets off me in the morning to get me to get out of bed for school.
A coach who taught me how to play every sport I know.
My favorite friend who I call to unload my day on.
My Dad is full of little nuggets of wisdom of how to live a happy life. Lessons I did not listen to as a teenager. Yet, they followed me. Now that I’m an adult, I hear those little phrases in the back of my mind.
Make time for the things you love.
Timing is everything in this world.
You make time for the people you want to make time for.
“Dad my arm hurts.”
“You’re face is killing me.”
“Keep shooting.” “Box out.”
These days a lot of people feel the need to suggest that I need to have another baby to “give my husband a little princess.” Hmm.. I hate it to break it to them, but that’s not a reason to have a baby. Also, there is a 85% chance that she may not be a little princess. Ask my Dad.
My Mother said, “Smile Britt!” Look at Anastasia Beaverhousen! What a snake in the grass. She definitely pretended she was going to do it, but in the end only pretended.
No, he did not get a princess. But he did get a best friend. So I’m assuming he calls that a win.