It’s my dad’s birthday. In honor of him, here is a post.
I’ve heard a lot of girls talk about what it’s like to be the Mom of their friend group: the dependable one, who people can turn to for care or comfort, who will sew your buttons back on and make you a hearty stew, who will dish out practical and sympathetic wisdom to help you overcome your obstacles.
I’ve never heard anyone refer to being the Dad of their group, especially a group of mostly females, but after giving it careful consideration over the years, I know that I’m definitely the Dad. Or the uncle who walks around in his undershirt and overstays his welcome on holidays. It’s a toss-up. Either way, take that, gender roles!
Here is the following evidence that I am your Dad:
- If you cry in front of me, I will feel very, very bad about it and will most certainly want it to stop, but I will have no idea what to do. I will naturally respond with an inappropriate joke or an unhelpful comment. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked to leave the room while someone else comforted the crier.
- If someone has a question about their math homework or what they can and can’t put in the microwave, they come to me. If they have a question about shoes, they go to literally anyone else. Seriously, ask the bum behind the supermarket. Or your drug dealer. They will know better.
- I love puns. Bad ones.
- If you’re sick, I will take care of you, but the back of mind will always be telling you to suck it up and get back to work.
- I don’t like dressing up, have used the term, “kids these days,” and am generally always wondering what all the fuss is about.
- I’m very willing to spend my money on other people but when I’m shopping for myself, I am known to utter, “$10? They must be mad!”
- I love everything about BBQs. Fourth of July is my favorite holiday.
- I probably can’t name more than five songs written in the last five years.
- I get really excited about practical or silly gifts. I do not get excited by brand names, cosmetics, or handbags (because I’ve probably never heard of them, I don’t know how to put makeup on, and I don’t like having a bag weighing me down incase I have to run from ne’er-do-wells).
- I don’t have great maternal instincts. I’m honestly a little afraid of babies. Why would you put a whole human life in my hands? Have you seen my resume? I’m not even remotely qualified for that. Why can’t we arrange it like when you buy a dog and it’s already weened and has had its shots and won’t die if you go take a bathroom break?
- You could call me from jail and I would pick you up, no questions asked, but you would probably feel the weight of my disappointment in the silence of the car ride home.
- The only sound advice I am even kind of prepared to offer is career advice.
- Out of all of your friends, you will probably be the most embarrassed by me.
Luke, I am your fatherrrrrrrrr.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll be different once a little me comes along, should I ever decide to reproduce. There are plenty of things about me that aren’t dad-like. For starters, I refuse to be productive on weekends and I’m half-convinced the lawn mower wants to eat me. I blame that scene from The Happening. But regardless, if you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on, you’ll probably find mine too boney, if you’re looking for a hug, we’ll have to make it quick, if you’re looking for a babysitter, you probably wouldn’t even think to ask me.
If you’re looking for someone to drink beers in silence with, you know where to find me.