To Chris, on Father's Day

Deep in winter, early in the morn,’
A super cute girl—and daddy—were born.
She grew and cried and pooped and ate,
And never again would you sleep in late.

The tasks you learned, the skills you got,
Like efficient puke clean-up and hair-dos for tots,
You too have grown, you young strapping lad,
To a responsible, caring, and top-notch dad.

For a better daddy, no little girl could wish,
Who else can comprehend her weird gibberish?
You can rate all cartoons and know kids’ songs by heart,
You even let her ride on the side of the cart.
(Mommy disapproves of that last one, by the way.)

You can change a diaper or crib sheet with ease,
You even ensured that your daughter says, “Please.”
Sure, thanks to your genes she has nary a curl,
But oh, your eyes brighten when you catch sight of your girl.

She has your eyelashes and she’s endlessly cute,
And like you, she smirks with each little toot.
The two of you share those wide, chubby feet,
And a mutual dislike of Mom turning on heat.

You deserve so much more on this day than a poem,
And not doing much besides staying at home.
But a big gift you’ll get, though it’s not one you buy,
In October, you’ll be a dad again, to your sweet Lorelei.


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