When she was born, I cried. I held her in my arms for the first time and, no kidding, she snuggled up to me. It was the greatest feeling I've ever had. Also the most terrifying. I mean, what if I messed up? What if I didn't teach her well? What if she grew up to not like me? What if I'd never have that feeling again? But I took her home, held her in my arms, and sat back in my easy chair with my little girl on my chest. There's a picture of that moment floating around somewhere.
I've watched her grow from a goofy kid into a goofy young woman, and all my fears are laid to rest daily.
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| Pictured: Goofy Young Woman |
You know those parents who unashamedly think their children do no wrong? Who dote over their kids? Who truly believe their kid is the most talented, wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, etc. etc. etc?
Guilty.
If I could've gone to the "kid factory" and chosen the specific features and characteristics of the kid I would have, those custom bits would've combined to the child I have today. Seriously. I mean, she has my sense of humor, she's whip-smart, she sings, writes, has a morbid fascination with horror movies, and loves to be driven around on the motorcycle by her dad (that's me!). People who don't like children love Zoe for some reason, and I know what it is. She gets it from her mother. The old saying "To know her is to love her?" Yeah, Tabby had that. And Zoe inherited it.
For the rest of my life, no matter how many books I publish, what rank I achieve in Kajukenbo, how many bizarre skills I master, what awards I win, there is at least one constant: All of them pale in comparison to my Zoe.
Happy Birthday, sweetie. I love you so much.
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| Pictured: Best Kid in Existence |
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