I am a day late. What can I say? I was having a rockin’ weekend with my brother-and-sister-in-law and our fabulous niece, and I simply won’t apologize. Besides, if I was on time, how would you know it was me? So here you go. Happy Father’s Day! This post might get a little mushy, so bear with me. I’ll be returning to my stoic self and hit myself in the head with a hammer when the moment passes.
A dad is:
the guy who follows the Rottweiler around the yard all afternoon and waits for said dog to poop out the ribbon it removed from girl-child’s lovey.
the guy who gives his kid his own ice cream cone and pretends he never actually wanted it in the first place. ***
the guy who attends a tea party with his sons and demonstrates the proper “pinkie out” position with his lemonade. Because there is fresh gingerbread involved, of course.
the guy who takes an entire week of vacation to spend with his kids because he realizes his teenage daughter may not want to hang out with him for very much longer.
the guy who gets peed/pooped/puked on while carrying his toddler on his shoulders. And continues to carry him anyway because the little guy is tired.
the guy who spends the night freezing half to death at a Boy Scout camp out because his son wanted to go. And tells the kid about the great time he had.
the guy who talks for the dog. And refers to himself as “Daddy” when he does so.
the guy who offers to let his daughter get a tarantula if that’s what she really wanted, though he is deathly afraid of them.
the guy who took the late shift with newborns. Every single time.
the guy who was willing to share the real facts of life with his kid.
Happy Father’s day, babe. Thanks for being that guy.
*** Moms have slightly different standards, kid, so put down the Moon Pie and back away slowly. Mommy doesn’t share her food, Pumpkin.