Unless you are a filthy, bearded terrorist, you are no doubt aware that last Sunday was Father’s Day.
Father’s Day is a wonderful occasion when dads across our great republic are treated to pancake breakfasts and the promised opportunity to change the oil on the car without the shrill shrieking of their children to inturrupt them. It is a day of warm, obligatory embraces and the cold, gentle rewards of having a Dairy Queen Blizzard all to oneself.
My Father’s Day began well this year, as my wife allowed me lay in bed until 7:30am. A non-parent reading this might be startled that this would count as a luxury, but in the world of fatherhood, where children unmercifully awaken at 6am and proceed immediately to kick at your genital regions (maybe that’s just my kid), it’s downright indulgent.
After a pleasant morning spent in my underwear without shame, we packed up and went out to Culver’s, a fine establishment whose menu features various rearrangements of meat and melted cheese. Our dining experience was harried and mechanical, as it usually is when accompanied by a 20-month old. Yet it must be said that their crinkle cut fries added an element of savory sophistication to my Father’s Day experience. Too bad my kid threw a lot of them on the floor.
By this point you may have gotten the impression that I somehow view fatherhood as a grotesque burden that must be carried, as if I were the poor horse that Wilford Brimley is sitting on in that diabetes commercial.
Of course, that would be a gross mischaracterization of my feelings (not unprecedented for the JLP). I genuinely love being a dad, and I love Oliver more than these 300 words would allow me to say. Fatherhood is the biggest and best thing that has ever happened to me (seriously though, I still don’t exactly understand exactly how it happened to me). It’s just that things are really different once you’re a dad. Sleeping in and leisurely dinners at nice restaurants are extraordinarily difficult to pull off. Instead, we dads get an awkward Sunday in late June filled with nice sentiments in the morning, chores by mid-afternoon, and maybe a few crinkle cut fries in between.
Truth be told, it was an awesome day. I loved (and was incredibly thankful for) every part of it.