The DAD Who Came To Visit

My dad.
THE Dad.
Dad.
The Dad-meister.
The RAD-meister.
The Dad-ernator.
Pops.
Sometimes known as Daddy.

He came to visit.
He lives far, far away in a state that looks like a mitten.
The Mitten State.

*On a side note - don't you think Oklahoma kind of resembles a baking dish? Maybe it's just me.

He and my little cutie (doesn't want to go to bed at night these days) patootie hit it off right away.
They sang songs.
Played with toes.
Swung on swings.

I'm not quite sure who liked who more.
I love this picture.
I love my kid.
I love my dad.
I think as I've gotten older, my love and appreciation for my dad has grown.
Don't get me wrong, I've always loved the guy...
I can't really explain it without sounded utterly sappy.
Let's just say -
I'm glad he's around.
I'm glad he is who he is.
I'm glad he's my dad.
I'm glad he's my friend.
I'm glad he loves my kiddo.
And he's so COOL.


 Three of my favorites:

 I wish the dad on the left, with the super cool beard lived closer.
Also, I love the dad on the right, with the super cool hair.
And the cute tiny person in the middle - she's amazing.

But alas, his trip has ended.
Back to the land of the mitten.
And I probably won't see him for a year or so.
Plane tickets are pretty expensive - and who wants to fly 4 hours with a 2 year old?
I LOVE her, but it's not on my top 10 list of favorite things to do.

Miss you already, pops...
a.k.a.
Daddy.