As a Dad of a young daughter you know how precious that bond can be.  Every Dad wants the best for his daughter, I love my daughter to the moon and back in spite of or maybe because she is a spitting image both looks and personality of my wife.  This is not post worthy as this is purely what a father is supposed to do.

I should take a brief timeout to also say I adore my son, he is dopleganger of me again both good and bad in appearance and personality.  His blessing is also his curse.

I spent this past weekend carrying sleeping kids through Disney, keeping spirits up with snacks, allowing foods and adventures you would never allow in the confines of my own four walls but in Florida…  it’s all fair game.  I’m sure in someways that explains some of the stories of things white people do that could only happen in Florida.  I saw more animated characters sing, more princesses smile and hugged more men covered in fur than anyone should have to in two lifetimes, but I did it to see the smiling faces of my kids.

My daughter who is a late talker by definition has been talking effectively a little of 8 weeks now, we understand about a third of what she says and even with that she is introducing 20 or so new words everyday as she tries to catch up to her peers, remember she doesn’t like being outdone just like my wife.  So new words come together frequently and the pronunciation isn’t always as clear as we may like.  It took us almost a week to understand the movie “Wee” was actually her trying to gain clarity around the word Woody and that she wanted Toy Story, which I also watched Woody about 15 times this weekend, again anything to make them happy.

It was no big deal when the new phrase “eye hi-yee” showed up in her vocabulary this weekend.  The biggest question is what did it mean, by mid-day Sunday she had said it probably 50-60 times through out the weekend.  Did her eye hurt?  Was she hungry? Was it a yee-haw?  Between 15 toy storys, 4 carousel rides and a horse shirt yee-haw made a lot of sense…  plus her dedication to this phrases repetition made it seem pretty important.

About three quarters of the way through Sunday she bent over to my wife while we were waiting for the Frozen sing-a-long to start a slowly said the phrase again with near perfect clarity.  I’m Happy.

At that moment my heart broke, as I saw her smile and instantly pieced back the other 50-60 times I had heard it over the weekend on that carousel, after meeting Rapunzel, after the tea cups, unwrapping Christmas gifts at my Mom’s and before bed the night before.  It was then it made my entire weekend worth while, everytime I carried her versus putting her in the stroller, every ice cream bar and every second in line for Ariel.

My son, who I love, said “ball”, over and over and over.  He loves balls so I think that means he’s happy too.

Miche loves Disney, plans on seeing the movie BIG HERO 6 soon and writes for