Saturday, September 02, 2006



Daddy wrote this note, even though Mommy is reading it.

Son, who is this note from? Good. And now can you point to him? Good.

Daughter, who is this note from? Good. And now can you point to him? Good.

Daddy says: Kids, I am sorry that my nerve signal problem makes it hard for me to talk, and hard to walk. I love you both, and if I did not have this problem I would run with you and chase you and rides bikes with you.

I am going to stay home when you go to camp. You and your mom will go without me. The reason is that long car trips make my legs and my butt hurt. And most of the ground at the camp is not good for wheelchairs. And they don't have all the comforts of home there. I will be fine here. I like it here, and it is only for four days. When you come back, I want to hear all about your trip.

Maybe it makes you sad that I cannot do those things. It makes me sad, too. But then I think about how lucky I am to have you two as my children. Then I don't feel sad. I feel lucky. Today I am the luckiest man on the face of this Earth.

I would never want to be cured of this problem if it meant that I saw any less of you.

The doctors don't know how to fix my problem, and you kids cannot fix it, either. But by having me as your daddy, you make me very happy. And no doctor can do that. Except your mom, who is a doctor, but not that sort of doctor.

Being the dad in this family is the most important thing to me. Thank you.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Left grip is 16 pounds (12, 15, 16), right grip is 40 pounds (36, 40, 40).

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