The Good Guy

Breakfast has always been a big deal at our house.

During the week, I'm usually the one making breakfast for the family, and honestly, I think it's one of the best ways to start the day.

But somewhere along the way, Sunday mornings became a little different.

If my memory serves me correctly, it all started on one of those mornings.

You know the kind.

You walk into the kitchen because breakfast still has to be made...

But you don't have the slightest desire to cook.

Apparently, Mr. B.T.C. has a sixth sense for moments like these.

Without me saying a word, he looked at me, smiled, and said he'd take care of breakfast.

That morning he introduced the family to what has since become a Sunday tradition...

Dad's Famous Oatmeal.

Not only was it delicious, but it gave me a little extra time to focus on getting everyone dressed, fixing little girls' hair, and making sure we were all ready for church.

It quickly became one of my favorite Sunday routines.

Just last week I was finishing Breeley's hair when we heard Dad call from the kitchen,

"Hey, P.G.! Time to eat!"

Breeley looked up at me with those big blue eyes and asked,

"Mom, what does P.G. mean?"

I smiled.

"It stands for Pretty Girl. Sometimes Daddy calls me that."

She thought about it for a second.

Then she giggled.

"Mom... you sure married you a good guy, didn't you?"

I couldn't help but smile.

"Yes... I really did."

A few moments later she continued.

"Mom... did you know a boy at school named Cutter loves me?"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! He stares at me all the time. He even said he's bringing me a rose on Monday."

Then came the question that caught me completely off guard.

"Do you think he'll marry me someday and be as good to me as Daddy is to you?"

I wrapped my arms around her.

"Sweetheart, I hope you always remember how important and special you are. Never settle for anything less than someone who loves and respects you the way your daddy loves me."

Then I smiled and added,

"But for now... let's just worry about getting through second grade. We'll figure out the marriage part later."

"Deal!" she laughed.

As I thought about that conversation later, I realized something.

Children are always watching.

Long before they understand relationships, they're quietly learning what love looks like.

They're watching how a husband speaks to his wife.

How he serves her.

How he treats her.

How he makes her feel.

Our daughters are learning what to look for someday.

Our sons are learning what they will become.

So before I close...

A little note to the good guy.

Thank you for the Sunday morning breakfasts.

For our Friday night dates.

For the little abbreviations that only we understand (P.G. does not really mean pretty girl).

For somehow knowing exactly what I'm thinking without me saying a word.

And most of all...

Thank you for making me feel cherished, loved, and valued every single day.

You have quietly taught our children what a loving husband looks like.

And for that, I'll always be grateful.

I love you.