The day my son was born, almost two long years ago, I remember watching my husband carefully hold a tiny bundle of blanket and baby.

I remember seeing the way he looked at our son, his eyes wide in amazement at both the miracle of birth and the constant worry that comes with it.

Right at that moment, he became a daddy.

Since then, however, he seems to have gotten the swing of things and, as is customary, we celebrated his fatherly skills this Sunday in recognition of Father's Day.

Sure, a handprint card and a bag of candy doesn't seem like an extravagant gift to a man who has devoted his life to fatherhood, but it's the thought that counts.

And my son and I sure think a lot of him.

When I first married my husband, I knew he was going to be a great father.

Not only has he proven me right in our two years of parenthood, but he has gone above and beyond my expectations.

As much as my son is thankful to have a loving daddy who will do whatever it takes to make sure he's happy and safe, I am thankful to have a partner in the game of parenting.

I am thankful for my husband's willingness to stay outside in the scorching summer heat to watch his son mow the yard, create colorful driveway murals and run circles around our lone tree.

I am thankful for his strength to appease a kid who weighs well over 40 pounds (I'm guessing 45 by now) by carrying him through the grocery store instead of making him ride in the cart like mommy would.

I am thankful for my husband's recognition of "mommy time" and his cooperation in letting me close the bedroom door and take a nap while our son runs wild through the rest of the house.

I am thankful for his ability to put a fussy boy to sleep, no matter how many times he wants to read "Where the Wild Things Are" or watch the same Elmo cartoon over and over.

And I'm even more thankful that three hours after that kid finally falls asleep, when we hear a soft cry of "Daddy" over the monitor, he never ignores it.

My husband rushes to my son's room, scoops him up and back to the reading chair they go.

I have no doubt that as our family continues to grow, my husband's methods and techniques will only improve with time.

I know this because I have seen what has happened while growing up with my own dad, watching him become a father-in-law and, best of all, watching him become Grampa.

Happy belated Father's Day to my husband, my dad and all the men out there who do their part to change messy diapers, wash baby food out of hair and give their wives the occasional breather.

(Staff writer Jessica Bauer can be reached by e-mail at or by phone at 505-1236. To comment on this and other stories in the Log Cabin, log on to Send us your news at