Tomorrow at 12:57 p.m. my baby girl turns 9: unless my wife has a BIG change of heart, Ciera will be the only daughter I'll ever have.
Before she was born I was what I guess you'd call a typical guy: keep your emotions in check and don't let 'em see you cry. Still am in most ways, but when I started getting teary eyed at that God awful "Butterfly Kisses" song, I knew things had changed.
She used to want to be where I was at all times, and while she still does to some extent, you're more likely to find her upstairs listening to Hannah Montana. She's at the age where she still wants me to tuck her in and say her prayers, but doesn't want me in her room until then.
When I'm in town, I take her to school every morning and walk her to class while holding her hand: once we get to the door though, she drops my hand and walks on in. And every time she does it breaks my heart.
With the two boys doing their best impression of a Tasmanian devil most of the time, having a daughter helps keep me sane. Not that she doesn't have her moments. (Puberty can't start at 9 can it?)
She looks like her Mom, acts like her Dad, and from the day she was born, she stole my heart.
Happy Birthday Sissy.
Dad loves you more than you'll ever know.
On the 97th anniversary of his birth.
17 hours ago