If you have a blog and sometimes mention in it that you have little creatures in your house resulting from a drunken few minutes in your closet during a party at your house, then apparently you’re supposed to write a post about fatherhood on Father’s Day. At least, that’s what the good daddy bloggers do. After commenting on a good example of such on someone else’s blog, I figured I should do a little typing of my own.
Aspects of fatherhood I have enjoyed over the years:
- Bringing my daughter to work, showing her off to everyone, placing her in my Herman Miller chair and taking funny “look at the adorable little future lawyer” pictures, only to have her then piss all over it (and the carpet).
- Getting a call from my neighbor, a detective with the Atlanta Police Dept, and finding out my daughter is in his yard and naked, just in case I was looking for her. Meanwhile, I’m upstairs with the infant and have no idea she’s capable of opening doors on her own.
- Getting a call from the preschool about my daughter’s habitual yelling, “Oh, shit!” when she drops things. At least she used it in the correct context.
- Watching our 5-year-old black dog, Winnie, develop gray hair on her face from my girl’s regular hazings of games like “cover the dog in jelly” or “teach the dog to slide down stairs” or “jump on Winnie from the sofa” or “feed Winnie small plastic people via her asshole.”
- Holding on to her inevitably fleeting belief that our house is a castle, that she’s its princess, and that I’m her prince. And that every fairy tale ends with, “and then she went on to law school and practiced with Prince Daddy for ever and ever.”
A version of this first appeared on Father Muskrat.