Nine

I can't believe it! My little girl is 9! Well, she'll be 9 in two days.

Parents will understand the paradox that the years seem to have flown by, yet, it seems like an eternity since she was a baby. Without photographs or video -- luckily we have a lot of both -- I would hardly remember what she sounded like and looked like when she was small.

The so-called "tween" years are a lot of fun. I love watching her grow. I'm convinced that my daughter, somehow, is my purpose, my raison d'être. As she becomes more mature, more of a complete (for lack of a better term) person, I see my destiny, in a sense, unfolding. It's really cool . . . and kind of scary. I just hope that I've done the right things so far and will continue to shephard her through this crazy life until she is ready to start her own flock.

I love her so much! She's my baby girl! I can't wait to tell her this in the morning.

Happy Birthday, Munkins. You're the best thing -- or at least tied for first with your mom -- that ever happened to your old man.

Random useless observation no. 1

People like swimming pools.

Any hotel worth its salt has at least a pool suitable for wading. In most suburbs in America, there's hardly a yard (at least where kids live) that doesn't at least have a kiddie pool. You'll probably never say a bona fide mansion without a pool.

Even in the dead of winter, people like to swim. It is pretty common around here for families to rent hotel rooms just so the kids can swim.

When we took our daughter to Disney World for her 5th birthday present, she loved the parks and the rides, but she would've been happy to swim in our hotel pool (shaped like Mickey's head) for most of the stay if we would have let her.

I could go on.

Missed a perfect teaching/loving opportunity

For a reasonably intelligent person, I can really be an idiot at times. My precious little kiddo was willing to help me shovel the snow this morning. There's a lot snow to shovel, believe me.

She just wanted to spend time with her "Daddy." She wanted my attention. She wanted my approval. She wanted to serve and be helpful.

What did I do? I got impatient. I snapped at her a few times because she was "in the way" or doing something wrong. I barked a few times out of the frustration of the work. It took a long time, even with her help. It is hard work. Ignoring the enormity of her heart, the sweetness of her intent, I focused instead on the task. Even then I didn't slow down enough to teach her how to help or even explain how she could help.

I did thank her. I apologized for being snapping a few times. I paid her a little bit of cash to reward her hard work, even though she hadn't asked for or expected it. I explained that I got impatient because the job took a long time (at least 1 1/2 hours) and was very tiring. Those are not good excuses. She's more important than the driveway.

Why do I do these things? Why do I forget what is important? Why do I value those things that mean nothing at all? Why do I hurt my family?