Glubs.

That's right, I spelled that G-L-U-B-S. When my younger daughter was little that's how she said gloves.

"Daddy I need my glubs, it's cold outside".

Light bulbs were "light bubbles" and eyebrows were "eye-brellas" .

We worked out in the yard all day Saturday, just me and her. I bought her some new work gloves, sorry, glubs. She really worked hard, I'm proud of her. We had a nice time together. It was so nice outside, finally. We had The Parrot out on the patio sitting on his perch. We didn't want it to end. We finally came inside when it got too dark to see. We were done working at that point, we were checking out the birds. She loves birds. This white pigeon was sitting on top of the neighbors house, every now and then it would fly around then come back to the neighbors roof. The sun was setting. The sun made that pigeon's wings sparkle as it flew overhead.

Today I was putting some Christmas decorations away. They have been packed back in their respective containers since January. Those containers have been sitting in the front room, the room we really don't use ever since. I know, believe me I know. Hey, better late than never, right? So anyway, I'm carting those containers up into the attic and she's hanging out with me. She's just sitting on one of those big plastic storage bins up in the attic while I haul stuff upstairs. She asks me what's in those two big containers over in the corner? The ones sealed shut with duct tape.

We spent an hour going through them, old army memorabilia and stuff from when I was a cop. I realized that she really does not remember me being a cop. She remembers me being in the wheelchair, she remembers me recovering and going to physical therapy because that went on for a few years but she really does not remember me being a cop. She just knows that I was once. She was two when I got hurt and retired. So we were going through old army stuff, we were going through old cop stuff. She was wearing my old black beret and a BDU top with the patches all sewn on both arms. She had a lot of questions about the army, I answered most and lied about some. She was really digging all the cop stuff. I have a couple old trophies from shooting competitions, one for being the best shot in my class at the academy. She was impressed, I felt kind of proud. She found my old badge holder, the leather device that holds your ribbons and such up above your badge on your dress uniform. It has seven ribbons on it. She asked me what each one was for and I told her, I showed her the written commendations that went along with each one. She read them, she started to cry. I thought she was getting upset so I asked her what's wrong? She said nothing was wrong. She said she was proud of me. She gave me a hug and said she was proud that her daddy was a hero. Wow, I do not consider myself a hero, at all. In fact most cops out there have similar awards, it just goes with the territory. She didn't care, she thinks I'm cool.

Someday she won't think I'm so cool anymore and that's okay. Today she thinks I'm the real deal. I have to admit, it felt pretty good. I will never forget today, I just hope I can live up to it.