Since none of our special needs children are able to write the usual “Why My Dad is the World’s Greatest” essays that win him gift cards to hardware and sporting goods stores, I will attempt to compose a little something on their behalf.
To Mr. Lucky:
Our oldest son thinks you’re pretty cool because you take him to the movies and Busch Gardens, where he gets to ride on the train and get wet on the “circle boat” (Congo River Rapids), and “rectangle boat” (Tanganyika Tidal Wave).
You’re our daughter’s hero, because during all those weeks when she was in the hospital, you watched all those Pokemon videos with her (to include the baffling Pikachu’s Vacation), and you went all the way out to CiCi’s every day to get her the cheese pizza she loved, so she wouldn’t have to eat that other stuff the hospital called “food.”
Our youngest son looks up to you as the Bringer of Donuts, the Unlocker of Locked-Up Computers, the Parent Most Easily Conned, and the Only Thing Standing Between Baby Bear and the Total Insanity That is Mom.
I cannot imagine a better father for my children. I could not do any of this without you.
I love you!