He's missed work to stay home with the kids. He's taken Jonas to Boy Scouts. He helps them practice riding their bikes with no training wheels. He plays on jungle gyms, goes to school dances, and eats crappy pancakes at school fundraisers. He goes to every single tee ball practice and game.
He talks to them. He asks them questions that make them think. He works on school projects and homework with them. He has discussions about topics that not only are important to them now, but that will help shape who they become.
He helps remember to move the damn Elf on a Shelf religiously.
He believes in the magic of childhood. He holds living room dance parties. He cooks dinner, washes dishes, pours glasses of wine, and draws baths for me when my days are hard.
He plans for our future. College funds, goals, working hard to advance in his career- all for us.
No one has ever loved me so deeply, leaving me with a belly full of butterflies with just a glance from across the room. I never felt that I was good enough to be loved. I never fully understood what it meant to love and be loved.
Then I met him. And I knew.