Da Da

My first father’s day has come and gone and when my brother Kevin called me that day he summed it up best when he said:

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“I never thought I’d be saying this to you, but, Happy Father’s Day!”

Stella is now 8 and 1/2 months old and each day seems to be one of progress.  From toothless to two teeth.  From rolling to slow forward movement, stretching and sliding.

And she’s a talker.  Obviously it’s babble now, but she has said her first babble with intent.  Sometimes, when I walk into the room and she hasn’t seen me for a while she smiles and says:

“Da Da!”

I know, I know. I’m possibly imagining that she means me.  She doesn’t respond to anyone or anything else the same way, so I’ll take it.

Put a fork in me.  I’m done.

In the best possible way.

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