This morning after watering the flowers with me, Abby asked me to sit down with her on the front steps because she wanted to talk. This of course if most father’s dream come true. I hope that we have ‘talks’ for years until Jesus returns or I die. She of course didn’t want to talk about boys, the meaning of life or breakfast, but instead she proceeded to tell me stories. She told me about a little girl names Abby, a story about Grandpa and Grandma (no last name given, so if you’re a grandparent reading this, pretend it’s you), and one story that started like this:

Once upon a time there was a little boy called my daddy…

Which she never finished, but it tickles me to be that boy 🙂