Happy birthday, my Superdad.
About a week ago I decided that the letter I would write to you today would be about the number one thing I love about you. Only, I've been doing some thinking, and I think you should know that I'm having difficulty deciding what exactly is the number one thing I love the most about you. Being a renaissance man, a renowned genius, a devilishly funny guy, and quite adorable, I hope you can understand that the choice is a little bit difficult. First of all, where do I start? Do I start with childhood memories of Sunday morning special times, and how much I treasured the moments when I was the only kid clamoring to hold your hand? Or how much I loved "helping" you in the garden, or raking leaves, or getting you to read me a story?
Nah, too cheesy. Plus, it doesn't let me build to anything, you know?
Well how about I start with how much I admire your renaissancey-ness. Superdad, you amaze me. First of all, you are wildly intelligent, and just so capable of doing anything. What other man could fly around the globe on business one day, give a speech to the World Bank the next, design vital components of the International Space Station in his spare time, and on the weekend go out in a silly outfit to tend the bees? (I'm joking about one of those things: guess which, Internet!)
And really, I shouldn't forget to mention your winning way with a turkey. Killer, Dad. Nobody stuffs a bird like you. God, I wish I were going to be home for Thanksgiving. (sniff, sniff)
But then again, perhaps what I love most about you is your sense of humor and appreciation for the ridiculous. You are hilarious. Of course, I've already written about that here, and also here, so perhaps I shouldn't take up too much more time belaboring the point today. Except for to tell you that if you somehow get your hands on the Hair-Loom Platter again and give it to me at Christmas, I'm going to make sure you never get in your car again without first checking the back seat thoroughly. Think Nancy Kerrigan. Diamonds, damn it, I want diamonds!
I think, after much deliberation, it comes down to two things that I love the most about you, Dad, but I can't decide, so I'm enlisting the internet to help me out here. So, Internet, what do I love more about Superdad? Is it, A) how much my Superdad loves his kids? Cause he loves us an awful lot. He lets us know it, too. I am thirty years old and my Dad still gives me the best hugs I've ever had (um, he's tied with Captain Mommypants, that is), and I never feel better, or more at peace, than when I'm walking through the woods, holding Superdad's hand.
Or, is it B) the fact that my father, in all seriousness, gets up every morning, looks at himself in the mirror, and says, "You are a handsome devil."
Aw, to hell with it. Why choose? Superdad, I love you, and I miss you so much. I hope your 592nd birthday is the best you've ever had.
All my love,