For raising the boy that would become my husband. I don't say it enough, but I married one hell of a man. And nothing could prove that more to me than the way he's taken to becoming papa Rob. He calms me down when I cry (whether it be over stupid things like dropping my corndogs on the kitchen floor). He comforts me, and picks up my anti-nausea medicine from the pharmacy, when I feel like I'm going to barf (don't tell him, but I think it's the meds that help the most, but I'm not going to stop him from trying). He runs out to pick up whatever I'm craving (spaghetti & meatballs, Grape Juice popsicles, Taco Bell).
So, dear Squishy, if you are a little girl, look to your father to be the perfect example of the type of man you should marry. If you are a little boy, let your dad show you all the ways that a real man cares for his wife. And in the end, Squishy, never doubt how much your papa Rob loves you, because you're not even here yet & he's showing you every day.
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