I often want to tell him everything I've learned about and with our daughters. I want to save him the heartache and growing pains I went through in the early stages of motherhood, and quite honestly am still going through. But he has to find his own rhythm and voice as their father, without my constant input. This is something I could do so much better. I too often forget that he is not supposed to be exactly like me, it's healthy and necessary for us to give and teach different things to our children. I am the mess maker, the yes sayer, the loud and crazy on the floor player. He loves them just as big and just as hard, it just looks different than how I do. He brings structure and boundaries and the upmost passion for life. He quenches their curious minds in a way I will never be able to. He has intoxicated our daughters with a passion for every last thing they feast their eyes on. My favorite quality about him has been passed down to our daughters. I am forever grateful. Today we celebrated him, his hard work and his heart. Today we celebrated with prosecco, "hippie bowls," and pavlovas with cherries and whipped cream. We love you Daddy!