Proud Father V0 13 0 Easter Westy -

The update arrived not with a fanfare, but with a small, sticky hand patting my face. The sun hadn’t fully cleared the chimneys of the terraced houses across the street. Outside, a raw West Yorkshire spring—half wind, half hope—rattled the bin bags left out for Monday’s collection.

“The bunny came,” Theo repeated, more urgently this time. He held up the Peep like a holy relic. proud father v0 13 0 easter westy

He nodded, satisfied, and ran off to find the next egg. Here’s the thing about West Yorkshire on Easter morning. It’s not picturesque. It’s not a chocolate box. The hills are moody. The sky is a pewter lid. But there’s a particular light—a stubborn, hopeful light—that breaks through around 8 AM. It hits the damp pavement and makes everything glisten. The update arrived not with a fanfare, but

But here, in the dark, on the brink of Easter morning, I felt something new: not just love for my son, but pride in the person I was becoming because of him. That’s the quiet miracle of fatherhood. It’s not about shaping a child. It’s about being reshaped. Back to 6:47 AM. “The bunny came,” Theo repeated, more urgently this time

And that, I think, is what a proud father really is: