The Wright Place: A Little Valentine's Love...

{Continuing with the Things We Love series... Throughout February The Wright Place is focusing on Things We Love and if you want to begin at the beginning...start here.}

Last February, I shared my about my Dad's endearing Valentine's practice of sending my sisters and I each a box of chocolates. It's so wonderfully sweet, so wonderfully thoughtful, so wonderfully steady, so wonderfully touching especially from a man who, when my Man asked for my hand in marriage said, "Yes, but remember, there are no returns." He was serious. Thankfully, so were the intentions of my Man, who this very afternoon, called from the front door, "Looks like you've got your special Valentine in the mail."

This year marks my 40th Valentine's Day and probably my 36th or 37th Valentine box of candy from my Dad. Every year, I'm still as thrilled to open that package. Some years, the package is addressed in my Dad's barely decipherable handwriting, some years my Mom's lovely looping script decorates the front. I asked Mom once if she was Dad's agent in all of the Valentine's goodness. She assured me that Dad does the shopping and she sometimes handles the mailing and addressing.

The best part {aside from being made to feel special by my Dad each and every year...} is that these boxes of chocolates are the same size and variety that my sisters and I have been receiving forever. Dad chooses three different boxes with different images on the front of them which he feels best fits the character of the daughter to which he will mail it. That fact alone, makes the unveiling of the Valentine quite a personal event.

This year however, I ripped into the mailing envelope to find...

Sweet huh? I am the oldest of my siblings...and therefore Number 1. My Dad, like most parents I know (including me), had difficulty calling the correct name of the daughter he wished to appear in front of him when we were growing up. My Dad, the accountant, devised a genius solution for his problem...he began calling us by number. I was called Number One, my next youngest sister was Number Two and my youngest sister was Number Three. When I married my Man, my Man became Number Four. My sisters' husbands were added, likewise, to the family roster. This family accounting has been a fact of life for ever...until...

...until my son, the first grandchild was born. Then, in a world ONLY understood by grandparents and definitely NOT understood by first-born-children, my son became Number 1 and I moved down to Number 2, my sisters accordingly dropped to 3 and 4.

This was a problem to be sure, but I was busy being a new mom and barely noticed my fall from grace, even when I'd call home and my Dad would answer the phone and then declare to my Mom, "It's Number 2!" When Megan, grandchild number two, came along the next year, I dropped another notch to Number 3 and my sisters to 4 and 5 and our husbands to 6, 7, and 8.

With the addition of each new grandchild, my plummet from Number 1 continued until Molly, the last grandchild, was added to the pack. Molly, my very own baby girl put me into double digits. So, according to my Dad, Mr. Valentine, I am Number 10.

I, who grew up Number 1, am now Number 10.

This is a problem which keeps me up at night,

which my Dad delights in,

{please note his art work in blue marker...} and...

...which doesn't seem to bother my sisters in the least

{but really, why should it bother them, they were never Number 1....just saying'}.

THERE IS A BETTER WAY!

How 'bout if I retain my ~~crown~~ position as Number 1 and my children can be 1A, 1B, 1C, and 1D. My next sister can remain Number 2 with her kiddos answering to 2A and 2B, and my youngest sister can keep her lofty title of Number 3 and her girls can be 3A, 3B, and 3C.

So simple, so pure, so right...

...and it keeps everyone out of double digits!

Yes, yes, this will indeed work...I'm gonna call my congressman...see if we can all get rolling on this...

Hey Dad, don't fret, I know you really meant for me to go by the written words (see red arrows) on the box...and not get confused by that blue bubble you drew by me (the Number 1). Other folks, who aren't as perceptive as I am, might have mistaken that little bubble as a zero on a number 10!

How silly! Good thing I'm so smart.

Happy Valentine's Day!