Here in the States, we are celebrating fathers today. My Dad and I have always been close – I was a Daddy’s girl from the get-go. Mom says when I was a Terrible Two, he would call home during his lunch. Almost always she would complain how awful I was behaving. (remember, Mom was 19 when I was 2. Maybe 20. They lived in Maryland and life was much different than it is now.) She and I butted heads from the time I could walk, apparently. Either way, he would tell her to put me on the phone. He would then ask me if I was being a bad girl and I would lay the phone down and cry and cry and cry because I didn’t want my dad to think I was bad girl.
Time has smoothed the rough edges in mine and mom’s relationship. Especially now. But I’m still a Daddy’s girl.
He also stepped back up to the plate when my ex husband became a deadbeat and became the father my son needed when his own father refused to do so. I can’t think of a better father-figure.
Happy Father’s Day to my dad and to all of yours!
zee's muse 
What a nice tribute! Great pictures, too.
Lovely pictures and tribute. A good dad is a wonderful thing.
Spawn really looks so much like your dad, it’s astounding!
Nice to see some pics from your family. Hope you had a nice day!
He’s my dad’s guts. Both inside and out. Somewhere, there is a picture of my dad and his older brother taken when they were 3 and 18 months. The resemblance is SO remarkable, for a long time, Spawn swore that was a picture of HIM! Not his grandfather.
It was a quiet day. I called Dad and we had a great chat and he spoke to Spawn as well. Spawn considers him MORE than a grandfather. When my ex bowed out of the picture, my dad stepped up and was the father figure he needed in his life.
I’m just reminded – when Spawn was about 2 and half, we lived with my parents. I was working 3 jobs, trying to pay off the medical bills from his open heart surgery and my ex was no help. But I remember one late afternoon, early evening, my parents were in the living room having a very heated discussion. They weren’t yelling, but it was pretty heated.
Spawn listens to it for about a minute and then pushed his way between them. He started wagging his finger at BOTH of them – NO ARGUE!!! You no argue in MY house!!!
I’m thinking – Dear Lord Jesus, my baby is getting ready to lose every tooth he has, but before I could rescue him, both of my parents completely relaxed and my mom said – You’re right, baby. We don’t argue in your house.
And then they took him to McDonald’s for a messy ice cream cone, that I got to clean up.
Now had any of The Crew (me and my siblings) had done that, there would be NO ice cream and we would be in our bedrooms, contemplating our various short-comings as children. But that’s neither here or there. I tell Spawn ALL the time – your grandparents are not the people who raised me. They are 2 old people trying to get to heaven!
Oh my where have I heard that before.
Such lovely memories – both of your dad and your son. It is similar in my family, in that my son looks very much like my dad (just like I looked a lot like my dad when I was a child). It actually works like a consolation for me – I love seeing my son and being reminded of my dad. Precious.
Commenting over at Guylty’s post about her dad reminded me I never got around to doing so here. Lovely photos and memories, you and Spawn both resemble your dad very much. 🙂
Thank you!
When Spawn’s father and I divorced and subsequently fought for over 2 years over medical bills, his lowest blow was – I don’t think he’s mine. He doesn’t look like me.
And when his rights were revoked, that’s what he told his family. He’s not mine. She’s a whore.
Well, he IS his and I’m not, so screw him. He missed a wonderful young man growing up.
So the fact is, I’m rather PROUD and grateful my son takes after my side of the family, including my father in more ways than one. I think that’s the better deal!