Being a dad to a girl

...or at least being a dad to THIS girl means that you get to play make-believe. You make-believe you are cooking; that you're having an adventure in the jungle; that mama and papa's bed is a boat and you are surrounded by sharks; that every bath time is a pool party; that you are pretend-driving to IKEA; that your hooded towel makes you a dinosaur: that whatever outfit you happen to have on, plus a few well-placed accessories, makes you a princess; and on and on and on.

And this papa, the one at our house, works very hard during the day to keep bad guys off the streets. And then he comes home at night and spends several hours with Little Bear playing make-believe. He's tired and honestly would probably rather the bath just be a bath for once, but instead of saying any of that, jumps into her pretend world every. single. time.

Even if it means his picture goes on Facebook.

I didn't know when I married him that he would do these things. That this tall guy who played drums, and owned guns, and spent his life working with cops and criminals would happily twirl around the living room for yet another ball. But I love it and I want to make sure all the dads out there know the Rapunzel hair makes him even more of a man to me. And to a little blonde haired girl, whether she's a princess or a dinosaur.