The Spirit of Adoption (a.k.a. Happy Birthday, Dad!)

Sitting in church on Sunday, I found myself not really identifying with the sermon.  It was entitled, "The Spirit of Adoption" and I just kept thinking: I've never adopted anything.  I mean, I've purchased my share of furry friends, but I've never adopted an animal from a shelter.  And when I thought about having kids, adoption never really entered my mind. 

But sitting at dinner last night with my mom and dad, someone mentioned that I was about 6 inches taller than both of my parents, and wondered aloud how that happened.

It's funny.  We were at a convention dinner with business associates of my parents, some who have known me since I was 11 years old, and I suddenly realized that most of them had no idea that Bobby is actually my stepdad.  That's because he has never, not once, introduced me as his stepdaughter.  And he has never treated me any different than if I was actually his own flesh and blood.

Bobby is the kind of father children dream of having. 

He builds potato canons. 

He likes fart jokes. 

He thinks water balloons are hilarious.
 
He loves to be sneaky and try to get away with things moms don't approve of (I liked this quality a lot more when I was his partner in crime.  Now he just ends up getting my boys in trouble!) 

He is a fantastic candy maker.
 
He can design and build anything (including floats and decorations for my highschool Homecoming dance and Prom such as an entire life-sized pryamid and sphinx molded out of chicken wire and filled with crepe paper). 

He can fish. 

He loves heights. 

He picks up snakes. 

He has sent me at least 10 greeting cards a year for 23 years and randomly mails singing cards to the boys to make them laugh. 

He makes my mom smile. 

He is insanely outgoing. 

He supports me no matter what I do or how bad I mess up. 

He texts me silly pictures. 

He helps decorate my Clark Griswold house for Christmas. 

He looks like Santa.

And he loves Cabernet as much as I do.

It has taken me almost 23 years to realize that even though there is no paperwork, and a name change never occurred, I have been officially adopted.  And I couldn't be happier about it!

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Thank you for loving  me in all the ways a father does.

And I kind of wish we still had those matching Who Farted? shirts with the burn holes in them that we used to wear in the 80's!  The boys would think they were awesome!  And it would make a GREAT Facebook profile pic!  ; )

I love you to pieces.