Josh and Becca Thrap and Family

So I have a four year-old daughter, most of you know her. So many of you will understand what I really mean when I say she LOVES her daddy! And everyone else, including myself, well…it’s questionable. For example, last week I was alone watching a movie (one of those touching Christmas family comedy dramas made for tv) and I was feeling very overwhelmed and had uncontrollable tears. Just then Elena woke up and came downstairs and came over to me and looked at me quizzically–questioning the tears. Then she offered up a rare hug and climbed upon my lap with her blanket to settle in and watch the movie with me. I said “I love you Elena.” And she replied “I love…my daddy.” To which all you can say (and I did) is “I know.” Well. Today when she was demanding that I pour her milk while she nuked a second hot dog she was all caught up in some excitable chant/cheer/singy storytelling which had in it somewhere “mommy-riffic.” Then she said, “Mommy, your name is Becca, so you could say Becca-riffic.” So I asked “oh, and when do you say Becca-riffic?” “When its good.” “oh, so like if something is awesome I can say it’s Becca-riffic?” “Well, you coooould…if its soooo beautiful.” Now I’m gonna stop the day right there and just milk that thought for all I can. Loved.