Day 5

It's the 5th day of November and I have been challenged (okay, it's not a challenge at all) to announce something each day that I am thankful for. Obviously I know that I am incredibly blessed, and it would take me far more than 30 days to list all the many things I'm thankful for. But today, November 5th, is an especially easy day to detail exactly what I'm thankful for.

I am thankful that 53 years ago (I think it was around the time dinosaurs were on earth), Bob and Sue Kraft gave birth to a mischievous little boy named John. His nickname as a child was John the Con. He was known to fib to his parents, bring home cupcakes in his pockets, and make his poor sweet mother use terrible curse words like "sugarfoot." He was a hippie, taught himself to play guitar, smoked cigarettes outside school (which apparently was not so rebellious in the 70s), and legend has it that he even once had hair. 

He obviously bestowed all of these wonderful characteristics on to his daughter in 1990, which I am certain he immediately regretted. I too, am a hippie, more than a little rebellious, musically- though not instrumentally- inclined, and weird. Did I mention that? He's really really weird.

Although I'm quite certain it's public knowledge that John Kraft is, indeed, the cutest boy in the world, I thought I should share some pictures to highlight this fact. 

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT FACE?

JK, makin' me laugh since 1990.

And making me dance/ play the air guitar.

Taking me places I couldn't go without him.

And rocking a pornstar stache.

Being my duet partner and helping me channel my inner diva (see knee pop)

Teaching me the importance of family.

Teaching me never to be too proud to carry anyone else's load.

And to NEVER take myself too seriously.

That college football is a matter of life and death (ok maybe I taught him that one).

And that he'll open his door to me when I screw up (AGAIN) even if he doesn't like it.

(See: college football)

His senseless faith in our dumb dog shows that we have at least one difference.

But then I remember our shared love for ribs and it's all okay.

He taught me that sometimes he needs ME, which I think is kinda cool.

He taught me that it's still okay to sit on your dad's lap even when you're 22 and don't really fit anymore.

And just in case you thought the last photos were only cute because I was in them: proof of his adorable-ness, even without me.

He taught me that he's never too cool to hug his kid in public.

Especially when it took her 5 years and a lifetime supply of his money to graduate college.

He taught me never to go back on promises, even if they were made when your little girl was 12 and you didn't REALLY think she'd want to jump out of an airplane!

He taught me to own my inner weirdo and parade it around WaterFest (and the world) like I own the place.

And he taught me that most Sundays are best spent on the couch watching shitty movies with your dad.

He also taught me that even if you're 53, bald, and certifiably insane, they'll still let you run the New York City marathon… and finish it!

Daddy, thank you for teaching me to look at the world with inquisitive, loving, and caring eyes. Thank you for supporting me even when I didn't deserve it, and for showing me what real love is. Thank you for making every boy I've ever dated pale in comparison to you. Thank you for your creativity, intelligence, fearlessness, and strength. Thank you for being the best dad I could have ever asked for and then some. I'm thank you for you.