I don't know what I was expecting from him when Margot was born. Secretly, I was most disappointed she wasn't a boy on my dad's behalf. He's always been interested in things like trains and planes and military history, things I didn't particularly care for growing up. I wanted him to be able to share that with a boy. I knew he would love my little girl, but I didn't think they would have the same relationship they would've had if I had a boy instead.
But Margot and my dad are best friends. It doesn't matter that she's a girl, they have all the same interests - Margot LOVES trains, I think her first word was "choo choo." She loves spotting planes. She loves watching random YouTube videos. She's super athletic and a fast runner, which delights my dad to no end - he keeps talking about how the diaper is slowing her down and she needs some REAL running shoes to run wind sprints at the local high school track. Part of being so athletic means Margot keeps still for no one. No one, except my Dad. She is most content sitting in his lap, looking through books, which she does for NOBODY else. Or letting him carry her around their backyard looking at flowers and vegetables. She loves him so much.
And I can't even explain how much my dad loves her. I never thought in a million years he would love her as much as he does. I am not exaggerating when I say she is the apple of his eye. He has so much patience with her, he believes in her, he's so proud of her. She's made him softer somehow. Just picture a 62 year old former Marine cutting up the Sunday paper advertisements to make homemade alphabet flash cards. Or how today, he sat with her for 45 minutes, looking through a copy of Better Homes and Gardens, narrating everything, telling her about every picture and asking her questions, until she fell asleep. And when I boofed the transfer to her crib, he went into her room, sat on the floor next to her bed, and went through the magazine AGAIN. It warms my heart so, so much.
Today, Margot and I took my dad out to lunch at his favorite Mexican restaurant, which is right next to some railroad tracks. After lunch, we went "train spotting," and as a BNSF freight train flew by us, blowing his horn super loud, Margot gripped my Dad's jacket and turned her head to his shoulder. "Don't worry, Grandpa's gotcha," he said. When she turned back around in awe to see the choo choo, my Dad patiently counted the train cars with her. 89 total. My eyes filled with tears, standing there with the two of them. Best friends. It just makes me so, so happy.
They're chinos instead of jeans, so I think they'll be a little less trend resistant than the really bright color saturated jeans. 
