I watch him coo at the baby, "Don't cry. You're safe with me."

He steals every opportunity to lay with her warm, cozy weight on his chest.

He does the potty dance in the middle of the living room as little girls gallop around him, fingers pointing to the sky.

At the sound of her call, he's up and running in the middle of the night to the little one who needs a drink of water.

At a request for 'shoulders?', he scoops up a girl child and romps around the house to the sound of her delighted squeals.

He is the inventor of imaginary games that only a Daddy could dream up.

He bathes giggly, energetic girls, makes pony tails and plays princesses.

Once they're all tucked away for the night, he shakes his head and says, "I love them so much!"

And when I stumble back into bed after a 3am feeding, he's the one who pulls me close, murmuring an "I love you" into the quiet of the night.

He runs for copious amounts of water and nursing pads and diapers when my hands are full of baby.

He takes over Friday night plans, piling high homemade nachos with extra avacado just for me.

A Saturday morning is devoted to adding baseboard to our soon to be schoolroom, knowing that this causes me over the top kind of joy and excitement.

He sits in the ER til 4am, by my side, juggling a newborn and making me smile despite the reality that he must head to work the next day.

He walks in the door with that adorable grin on his face, flowers in hand along with 3 bags of my favorite chips. "They were on sale!", he explains.

Love.