— The blond toddler sits firmly in his high chair, little legs dangling, toes wiggling slightly. He adjusts his posture with tiny, careful shifts, looking at a folded card on the tray. His voice is deep, gravelly, raspy, masculine and authoritative, like Ralph Ineson narrating a toddler scene — conveying warmth, admiration, and sincerity simultaneously. —

“Father’s Day… it’s a day to notice the ones who guide you. The man who stands tall, steady, who never wavers when life gets… tricky.”

— He leans forward slightly, tiny fists resting on the tray, eyes focused on the card. —

“My father… he’s more than just a figure. He’s strength, consistency. Humor hidden in the quiet moments. Lessons that stick, even if I’m small enough to spill my cereal.”

— A soft, raspy chuckle escapes him — gravely masculine but tender. —

“He works, he cares, he listens… even when I babble nonsense or Patrick and John fight over blocks. He keeps us steady. He keeps us… grounded.”

— He tilts his head slightly, examining a toy, then back to the imagined father figure, voice carrying gravitas. —

“So here’s to you… a father who is patient, strong, and varonil. Even tiny people like me notice. Even tiny voices like mine… can say thanks.”

— A low, warm laugh concludes the dedication, toddler balance wobbles slightly, eyes twinkling. —

“Happy Father’s Day… you matter. Always.”