The man I love, who is the finest husband and father I could dream, was born on this day. A year ago on his birthday, my husband attended the championship final for our daughter's soccer league. We are there again. Our girl's team is going to the finals for the second year in a row, having put together a 15-2-1 winning record, placing second in the regular season. This is the kind of father my husband is: After her games, my daughter will run across the field and take a flying leap into her dad's arms, laughing. She knows that win or lose, he is proud of her. She knows she and her brother are the center of his world, that when they walk into a room, his eyes will light up, that he will always be happy to see them.
Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love my children so much I gave them you. I must have loved myself too, because here we are. Still holding hands.