Last night, around 3:00am, Zach let out a loud yell. Not so much a scream, but more of holler as they say.

It woke me up obviously. I’m not accustomed to my darling Zach yelling in the middle the night (a certain baby boy on the monitor I’m very familiar with however- ahem).

So I roll over and shook him awake.

Me: “Are you okay? You just yelled.”

Zach: “Oh, that was just my battle cry.”

Me: “Your battle cry?”

Zach: “Yes, I’m a warrior.”

And at that he drifted back into a deep sleep.

Can I just say that I love my husband?

I love that he dreams about being a warrior. I love that he has a battle cry. I love that he is a man.

A real man.

I love that he can fix most anything and that he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.

I love that he is willing to fight for our family.

I love that I can ask him to draw a flower, grow a flower or buy me flowers and that he can and will do all three.

I love that he makes me proud to be his wife.

I love that he is stronger than an ox.

I love that he is a man of courage, honor and integrity.

I love that he loves me and can show me that love without hesitation or embarrassment. He’s so very good at loving me well.

I love that he loves our babies so much. He is truly the best daddy in the whole wide world.

I love that he learns more about how to be man and a warrior through God’s Word every day.

I love that not only dreams about being a warrior, but that he is one.

My warrior.

My hero.

Hands off girls, he’s all mine.