I'm a firm believer that children need a mom and a dad.
Certainly there are cases where the mom is left on her own, or where the dad shirks his duty and takes off, or where the dad has passed away.
But I'm not talking the exceptions.
I'm talking the rule.
I know how much I need my dad . . . and I'm 31.
And I know that Georgia already recognizes her dad and responds to him with smiles and toots and big eyes.
She knows her dad because he's here.
Because he sings to her.
He reads to her.
He prays over and for her.
He tickles her.
He smooches her.
He takes her to church.
He keeps her safe.
He comforts her.
He snuggles her.
He explains things to her.
He tells her about her future.
He describes the puppies and the cows and the chickens to her.
He works long, hard hours so that her mom can stay home with her.
He tells her about Jesus and politics and land prices and farm markets and how to build fence and dig tile and why Lent matters.
And he always has a smile and a kiss for her when he comes in, even after working a 21-hour day.
I can feed her and change her diaper.
But she needs her dad.
And I'm glad the Lord blessed her with this one.
PHOTO COURTESY KATIE LOCKHART PHOTOGRAPHY