This morning they tumbled into bed with me. Bearing breakfast (waffles and turkey bacon), gifts (tuppeware?) and homemade cards drawn in crayon. Today is all-Dad all-day. It doesn’t get any sweeter.

The hardest thing about campaigning is navigating the family time. I travel home as much as possible so I can wake up with the family. And when doable they are included in campaign activities.  Yesterday I dragged my oldest, who is twelve, to a picnic in Volusia. She soldiered through the 10 hours in the car without once complaining that she was on a campaign junket rather than at the mall perusing Twilight lip-glosses. Today, all three kids spent hours in the sweltering sun of the city of Wilton Manors to march with Equality Florida in a pride parade.

I never feel imposed upon because I know I have it great. Campaigns are for limited duration, and I spend most nights and mornings at home. There are families – especially in these times – where a parent must work a second job, or a job that takes them away for great stretches. Their journey is so much tougher. And for families that have a parent in the military, the sacrifice is unfathomable.

My own Dad grew up in the Great Depression where the family challenges were immense. His father was often gone trying to scrape together a living, while boarders occupied their home. He grew up fast, ultimately spending a good part of his youth in the Army Air Corp in WW II. It was those hard lessons that shaped his desire to be an attentive and devoted father. I thank him for making sure I had that role model for me.

So today, I salute my brother dads. Yes, I know that Father’s Day may not have the stature of Mother’s Day. But I love it anyway because there is no job more important or rewarding to me than being a Dad. We Dads are a proud and scrappy bunch. Sort of the Avis rental care of parents. We may not be number one, but we are proud to be in the top two.