Daddy's hands were always so big and warm. They held me when I was little.

He played games with me, his large hands guiding the pieces on the board.

Daddy's hands fixed my broken toys. 'Good as new!' he would say with a smile.

In the kitchen, Daddy made the best food. His hands chopped and stirred.

When I was scared, his hands were my shelter. 'Don't worry,' he'd comfort me.

Daddy built a treehouse. His strong hands hammered and sawed carefully.

He held my hand tight during my first day of school. I was brave.

Daddy's hands clapped the loudest at my plays. I could always hear him.

He taught me to ride a bike. His hands steadied me until I could pedal alone.

With Dad's hands in the garden, we watched plants grow. We did it together.

At night, he tucked me in. His hands felt safe as they pulled up my blanket.

I will always remember how Daddy's hands made everything feel right in the world.