Hop on Pop

Yes ladies, this is my dad, and no I do not have a brother...

The other day a friend asked me how my relationship with my family was, and honestly I should have sent him to this blog which is becoming a sounding board for how obsessed with them I am.

My sister and I hosted a surprise 60th birthday party for our dad on Sunday (though the surprise was spoiled by a person whom I suspect is my high school math teacher). Despite some electric emotions, I think the party was a success, and I'm pretty sure my dad had a good time.

I've always been a daddy's girl. I'm convinced that my hilarious, easy-going mother had no idea what to do with me when I came into this world, serious, no nonsense, and completely like my father. Imagine his pride and her confusion when I took to the streets as a toddler, with a snotty, deadpan expression, announcing to the neighbors, "People are Homo Sapiens" with all the conviction of a Rhodes Scholar. That's how I roll.

There were those years that I took offense when people told me that I was just like him, though truthfully it was because I wanted to be like my Mama because she was a girl. Can't argue with that, being a girl is rad.

Truth be told though, I'm proud to be like my dad, seriousness and all. If I ever come into any success in life, and yes, in my deepest darkest moments I sometimes doubt the eventuality of this, it will be because my father taught me the importance of hard work, perseverance, and a positive attitude in addition to how to swim, obviously.

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