My Favorite Boy

I'm kind of a Daddy's girl.

That much, I've known for quite some time. But it's my dear old dad's birthday this Saturday, and I realized the other day just how much he's taught me.

A couple days ago, I was putting oil in my car and a boy from my apartment complex came running over.

"Do you need some help?"

I slammed the hood shut. I'd just finished.

"No, thanks. Just putting some oil in."

"Oh. And — you don't, like, need help?" He didn't seem to know what to do with himself.

"No, it's cool. I just got done."

"Oh," he said, and left, finally convinced I really was OK.

I couldn't help but laugh as I walked to my apartment. My dad taught me how to check my oil — and what to do when it was low. Hadn't everyone's dad done that? Then I realized ... probably not.

I thought of other valuable things my dad has taught me. He showed me how to cook fried eggs (over-easy, of course). He taught me to appreciate fine cheese. He explained to me the beauty of Les Miserables and helped me understand Shakespeare. I learned from Dad that it's OK to not be a Republican and that funny movies are meant to be memorized for quoting later. He taught me the value of a simple, declarative sentence. He teaches me to learn from every experience when he asks, "So, what did you learn?" when I call and tell him a heartbreaking story.


(Me and Dad being "scared" of the Tower of Terror at California Adventure)

I took my groceries into my apartment and unloaded my lowfat yogurt, extra lean hamburger and orange juice. I realized that Dad had taught me to take care of myself. He was diagnosed with Diabetes when I was nine, so we traded all of our cookies for cheese (fine cheese, like I said) and our Coca-Cola for Diet. I used to joke that my parents were starving me to death with all the low-calorie foods, but when I see piles of junk food in my roommates' cupboards, I'm grateful.



Mostly, though, my dad taught me the value of people. I grew up watching my dad teach — first students my siblings' ages, then my own — and he genuinely cares about people. I love it when my friends tell me they think he's a great teacher. I love it when I overhear people at BYU-Idaho talking about their "favorite professor" and figure out it's him. Dad loves people.

I'm OK with being a Daddy's girl.
Happy birthday, Dad.