Today is Father’s Day, and after a special breakfast — French toast and bacon, please? — my children will no doubt honor me with some heartfelt trinkets that will reach out and touch my tiny Grinch-like heart.
I’m not completely self-absorbed, however. That T-shirt or mug may say “World’s Best Dad,” but I’m fairly certain that Target didn’t ask for documentation before selling it. I’ll wear it proudly, but I know it’s not me.
I see the other dads. The ones who go on long father-son fishing trips. The ones who put work aside and coach their Little League teams anyway. The ones who smile and shrug instead of scream when you have a ketchup fight on the living-room furniture.
World’s Best? No chance. Maybe 50th percentile? On a good day?
I thought that today would be a good time to reflect on my shortcomings. My first son was born 13 years ago, followed by his brother a couple of years later. At the time, I made some promises about how I would raise them. How true to my words have I been? Well ...
I promised to keep you safe — So far, so good. You’re both healthy and alive, and we’re totally not buying that new place next to the crack house, unless the broker comes down another five grand.
I vowed that I would stoically do my fatherly duties, such as changing diapers, without complaint — I changed them, but yes, there was a certain amount of complaining and resentment. To be fair, I thought you’d be potty trained well before you were 9 years old.
That’s a joke guys, come on. Have a sense of humor.
I promised never to use you as comedic devices in print — Whoa. Sorry about that. Probably won’t happen again.