I Want NOTHING for Father’s Day. Sweet, Blessed Nothing!

No need to go on a last-minute shopping spree for Father’s Day, dear.

You can skip the “#1 Dad” coffee mug this year. 

Scrap buying me a new, shiny white pair of dad-sneakers – mine have plenty of tread left.    

No ties, no tools, no superhero T-shirts.

No golf shirts, no golf tees, no golf shorts or golf shoes. 

Nope, honey, I want NOTHING for Father’s Day. 

And I mean it.

This is not the same nothing you wanted for your recent birthday. It is a different version of the nothing you coveted for Mother’s Day a month ago. No, I’m savvy enough to sniff out your passive-aggressive attempt at testing my creativity and ability to listen to the small hints you’ve dropped throughout the year.   

I’m serious. I truly want NOTHING for Father’s Day. In fact, on June 20, I want the following, specific “NOTHINGS”:

• NOTHING waking me up before 8 a.m. No alarm clock, no children, no antsy dogs breathing just heavy enough to annoy me into awakening for the day. Nada.
• NOTHING that requires me to satisfy any basic human need of another. No feeding, clothing, washing, drying, putting to bed, reading to, or listening to any (and all) little humans that are not otherwise able.
• On Father’s Day I’ll be deciding NOTHING. I relinquish any authority to be consulted on, and, in any way a part of, both, pressing (“What are we supposed to eat?”) and meaningless (“Is underwear OK for two days?”) household verdicts. Yes, on this day, I want full immunity to use “go ask your mother” without limits or exception. 
• I want to hear NOTHING while enjoying a few moments of bathroom solace. The little shadows that normally appear on the floor just outside the door, today, they must go elsewhere. The knocking that follows the 10 seconds of that shadow patiently waiting will also be prohibited. I will enjoy a silent reign upon our porcelain throne.
• I want NOTHING to do with any activity requiring preparation – not with food, kids, logistics, work, or play dates. I will not be grilling, chauffeuring, dropping off, picking up, or looking at a schedule for anything on Father’s Day. 
• You and the kids should expect NOTHING from me – probably all day.

I must admit celebrating Father’s Day by requesting a day that resembles nothing about parenthood seems odd. Don’t misunderstand . I love being a father and husband. In fact, I’m hopeful that my daily efforts to do the opposite of nothing helps me justify the day of nothing I’m yearning for.

In exchange for NOTHING, I promise to wake up on Monday, June 21, back in my normal, solid, eager-to-be-a-great-dad shape. You, me, and the kids can return to our routine: unnecessarily waking up far too early for the summer, saying “Watch this, Dad” one thousand times more than “thank you,” tag-teaming the dinner time onslaught of “hangry” kid-beasts, and, that evening, we’ll do our best to get the children bathed and chilled out before bedtime. If we’re really on our parenting game, the kids will even be wearing a clean pair of undies. 

Yes, for Father’s Day, I want NOTHING – except the hope that the momentary downtime will help me muster the energy needed to make sure I am nothing short of everything for you and the kids the other 364 days.         

Sweet nothing for dad Photo: ©Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.