the dadaship.

The other night, we walked through Riverfront Park. Claire has ridden on the carousel a few times, but never with Nate. We paid for the ride, the music revved and they were off. With a grin plastered to her face and a tiny, chubby hand on her Dada's chest, the girl was in heaven. Nate caught my eye as they circled around, and a moment later, I was crying. I have officially become that mother.

Something about those chubby little fingers clinging to Nate's t-shirt. Something about her visible joy each time she spotted me in the crowd. The tears just welled up.

When I met Nate I was skeptical. He was this opinionated, eccentric guy in dirty shirts. We would take long walks and talk about why we should "just be friends." That we were "too different." Ours is not a sweep you off your feet kind of story. During our many times of uncertainty, I had this image of a child taking tentative steps toward Nate's outstretched hands, and I knew that he would make a wonderful father. And he does. Nate is still opinionated and still eccentric. Thankfully, his shirts aren't as dirty. He is my very best friend. He is also my little girl's favorite guy. He is her Dada.

We are both crazy about him.

Happy 2nd Father's Day, Mate. I love you.