Thermos

So, I don't remember too many things from when I was a little tike - selective perhaps, but be that as it may, I do remember my Dad's thermos. That thing was beat up. It was super cool green with a fresh coat to limestone dust every night when he got home. It had a screw-top lid and had a dent in the side from chalking a bulldozer - or so the story went. It was a Stanley Thermos and I won't truly count myself a grown-up, a man, or a dad until I have one in my truck, but until that time I'll have to make due with the plastic Starbucks one I use everyday.

A few weeks ago I was holding Pops before I had to leave for work. I had my Starbucks thermos in my hand, fresh hot coffee in tow, the lid was hot from the coffee. I was holding her in my left arm, coffee in right hand. She bent over and started to gnaw on the lid and I instantly remembered Dad's Stanley thermos. It wasn't a Stanley, but I felt like a dad. I felt a bit like my dad. I was happy. I was sad. My time of admiring my Dad's coffee thermos was over. That moment, which caught me completely off guard, that moment that I knew instantly I would never forget, was over like ... that, snap of the thumbs. The sound of my Dad's thumb snapping and it was over. It was incredibly, terribly, awesome. She is so, just, the best little person ever - gnawing on my thermos with her little toothless grin, making me realize how priceless she is to me. I think she's a genius.

Look at her with her swimmie shirt!

Just look at this and try not to laugh.