Imagine a little girl dressed up in a tutu, standing in the kitchen while behind her, her father mimics her every move. This little girl has just learned to pirouette and is showing the man behind her how to do it, too. This routine goes on for about thirteen years, until the girl gives up her tap and pointe shoes for something more exciting.

But this isn't about the little girl.

This is about the man behind the little girl.

My father has always been there for me. After I was born, he was my first babysitter when my mom had to go to the store. As she recalls, she came back to witness me with a rag wrapped around my head like a turban. (Yeah, we were crazy like that.) And every time he babysat me, we did something crazy. Best babysitter? I think yes.

My first word was inevitably "Dada," much to my mother's chagrin. And when he would return home from his work trips, we were the first ones to run to the door and scream for him to "come inside, come inside!" Even when he came home from work, we would trip over ourselves to get to the door so he could see us first. (We still do that...)

In any case, my dad has always been my first playmate and my best friend. He was a lot like Mr. Bing Bong (from Pixar's Inside Out), that's for sure.

He's always supported me in my choices and my life. When I had boy problems, he was usually the first to hear about it, and he would carefully explain the situation behind it to me before telling me I was "too good for all that drama." When things would go wrong with theatre, he would listen and give me tips on how to handle it, since he himself was a thespian growing up. (That was one of the many things we had in common as teenagers.) Our commonalities were more than just points of reference for growing up. They were what we built our trust on; they were what we built our faith in each other on. People say I am like my dad, but it goes deeper than just appearances.

And, of course, he was our savior when it came to technology. When I say savior, that's exactly what I mean. The MacBook I'm typing on now was refurbished and put together by his own hands. When I spider cracked my phone screen, I cried as I told him, because I was at college and didn't know if I was going to make it. He calmly talked me down and told me he would fix it when I got home. When I broke my phone a second time while I was at college, he calmly talked me down again and said he would fix it when I got home. (See a pattern here?) He has designed computer programs, created new computers from scratch and all the while, he taught me all about the elusive machinery. I know what a motherboard is (and no, there isn't a fatherboard or a babyboard or a brotherboard--but there is a sisterboard!), how to fix a fan, how to clean a computer from dust, what javascript and html is (rudimentary knowledge, of course), and various other computer-related things. He also taught me things about tools and powersaws. He taught me how to paint wood properly and how to measure out planks. He also taught me how to fix my car, in case I'm stuck on the side of the road and have no help. This man taught me life skills and how to be a better person by example.

So, here's to the man standing behind me. Always there. Always watching and waiting to catch me. Finally, I learned what God is like as a father through my own dad. While God is Our Father, my dad has protected us from things we knew nothing of and helped us out situations we had gotten ourselves into.

So, here's to you dad. My first superhero and our quickest defender.

I love you with all of my heart. Thank you for standing behind me.