Father's Day

So I'm a few days late to talk about Father's Day but I'm going to do it anyways.

This wasn't my first Father's Day and I'm guessing it wasn't yours, either. It was, however, my first Father's Day as a father so that was a new and exciting development. We celebrated fairly quietly as a family and I received an awesome present from Laura:

Did I mention that I'm a bit of a geek? Now you know. Also: RUN!

And I received this great card from my daughter:

She has great taste.

Good handwriting for a 10 month old!

As an aside, the card was actually from our friend, Tommy, who is absolutely awesome and made me smile. Thank you, Tommy! (Go check him out and vote for him so he can have an awesome new vlog with Geek & Sundry:  http://geekandsundry.com/vlogger/thomas-burton)

But it wasn't Father's Day that made me feel like a successful dad. It wasn't a bunch of people calling me up and wishing me a happy day or texting me, or Facebooking me to tell me how awesome they think I am. It wasn't getting the card or the geekiest Monopoly game in existence.

It was what happened yesterday.

My baby girl was playing in the living room, getting into trouble and finding the things that she could choke on or wrap around her neck if I looked away for more than 3.65 seconds and she pulled herself standing up to the coffee table.

WILD AND CRAZY BABY ALERT!

She then looked at me, raised one hand and waved it backwards, as babies will do when they are just learning how to wave.

She smiled, opened her mouth, and very clearly said "Hi dada!"

I smiled, waved back at her, and with tears in my smiling eyes (there was a ninja nearby cutting onions, OR a Dr. Who episode was playing and it was one about Rose) said "Hi, my baby girl!"

Delighted at interacting with daddy she immediately fell straight backwards, smashing her entire body into the floor, her head being caught by a pillow that we'll pretend I carefully placed just in case this happened but that in reality the baby had dragged there to play with.

But that moment? The one where she not only acknowledged that I exist but also took the effort to have a however-brief conversation with me, using every neuron in her still-tiny brain because she wanted to say hi to her dad?

Well, let's just say those damn ninjas are cutting onions again as I think about it and leave it at that, okay? That one moment was better than spending a year with the Doctor on the TARDIS.

...don't ever quote me on that, and if the Doctor is reading this, I will still gladly spend a year traveling time and space with you.