154 4.jpgWe went to church on Sunday.

Abby and Phoebe attend the Childrens’ moment in our church.

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It’s always interesting to hear what Phoebe is going to say in front of the entire congregation. People enjoy her random verbal diaharea…as long as it’s “moderately appropriate” Greg and I also enjoy it.

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There’s never a dull moment with the Spranger Girls.

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So on this particular Sunday, our Pastor did his children’s moment on sports balls and how no matter the size, shape or color…they are all important and they all matter. But before he got to the punchline Phoebe was shouting something out at him. Of course being the considerate gentle man he is, he stopped his speech to listen to what little Phoebe was saying.

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He asked her what she knew about footballs and she said, “My daddy used to use that kind of ball all the time. He wore a uniform and he was on the cover of a magazine.” Abby chimed in too, “Yes he was famous and the best football player ever.”

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Pastor Dave was very impressed and asked the girls if they were, “proud of their daddy,” they giggled and their little faces just lit up. There was a collective chuckle in the church that morning. Of course Greg’s face was red, but I think it helped him realize how proud of him his little girls are and what a hero he is to them.

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He’s also my hero…BARF I know.

But really he’s the kind of husband, friend and father I had always hoped for. The kind of father I had always wanted not only for my children but also for myself.

He changes diapers,

gives baths (albeit dumps the shampoo on their heads and really doesn’t see the point in conditioner, but those are just semantics), 

cooks dinner,

helps me clean up after dinner,

makes a killer egg, bacon and cheese breakfast sandwich,

does laundry,

digs trees out of the ground,

goes to the grocery store regularly,

loves to take the family out on our a.m. or p.m. walks,

loves family beach days,

tries his best to motivate and teach his girls how to surf,

dances in the kitchen on Friday nights with the girls to ACDC, MC Hammer, Phantogram, Radiohead, and other eclectic music,

buys into the whole ‘making family memories’ thing,

gives me all the support, help and encouragement I need for Homeschooling,

works so hard so that we can have a wonderful home, food, education, clothes and family experiences,

shows myself and our kids on a daily basis that he loves and respects me,

and teaches his girls how to fart and burp on command and thanks to Tom Read, how to get a special beer for Daddy from the refrigerator.

And that’s just scratching the surface.


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Uh-oh. I am feeling appreciative.

 Little ole’ 6’3″ Gregory Kenneth. We love him. He’s our hero.

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 I’m all done. You can go puke now.

2 thoughts on “ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FOUR…daddy the hero

  1. Hahahaha, no puking here. Love you sense of humor. On a serious note, it is seldom that one finds the mate that she’s dreamed of. He’s a keeper for sure. And your girls, just precious beings.

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