Dads are somewhat of a mystery to me. Really, what could be going on in their heads?

Like when we're all dressed up and ready to go to a professional family photo shoot and after organising everyone else, Mumma needs a few extra minutes to ready herself – only a daddy would think a good way to occupy the dressed up preschooler and baby is to do some drawing with PENS.

Like when the boys take a STOOL out onto the BALCONY  and CLIMB UP ON IT – only a daddy would reassure a mummy that it's okay because they're not tall enough to fall over the rail. Ummm, yet. But when they get tall enough, there is now a brilliant precedent in place that says "We're allowed to take stools out onto the balcony and climb up on them."

I could go on but it was Father's Day yesterday and as fudge-bar nutty as I find his parenting choices to be (when he picks out their clothes? Oh people!), I wouldn't do this gig without B. I couldn't do it.

So I am extraordinarily grateful to have this man in my life. He has been lifting double his weight for me lately and I can always count on him to play soccer with the kids when I am ready to gouge their eyes (gently) out.

Happy Father's Day, B.