He sat in the middle of the store. On a little kid bench. Legs sprawled, he hunched over to play paper dolls with Emma. I stood in line to buy jeans and felt a huge lump in my throat.









I am not going to cry while standing in line at this store.









A giant of a man to me. So tall. So brave. So handsome.









Suddenly in a clump, practically on the floor, willing to do anything with his daughter.









I'm sure so often this guy feels like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders: bills, a huge work schedule, a naggy wife, tons to do around the house. How often through the day does he secretly feel like a clump? So close to the ground when he should be standing tall?









It's my job as a wife to make him feel like the tall giant of a man he is. He's huge in my eyes. He's the tallest, bravest, smartest, kindest man in the whole wide world.









I hope I always make him feel tall and never make him feel like a clump.