Ode to Father's Day

To all dads, stepdads, half-dads, grandpas, uncles, non-related “uncles”, expectant dads, dad-wannabes, and anyone else who proudly assumes the mantle... A toast to you on our One Special Day.

Once more we'll receive our necktie or soap-on-a-rope that we can add to our carefully stashed collection of same. Hey, roses die, anyways, and diamond rings are sissy, so we make out better than Mother’s Day. We’ll sit back and watch some television and endure the commercials that depict us as incompetent boobs incapable of handling a child without asking, “Where’s your mother?” (A boycott-worthy instance, in my world.) The crudely hand-drawn cards we’ll cherish and hoard like a winning lottery ticket – which, judging from the riches our children bring into our lives, is the same thing. On our One Day, we’ll think back to days of diapers and late night trips to the store for either ice cream or formula, depending on which part of gestation it is. We’ll give a rueful smile at the thought of being assumed to work hard at the office because we’re not pregnant, put in a full day, then come home and be handed our bundles of joy because we just walked in the door – we smile because we wouldn’t dare spend an evening – no matter how hard it was at the office – without playing the horsey or any other climb-worthy object. Our smile is rueful because we’ve wasted so much time at the office when we’d rather be here with our children all the time; but “Mr. Moms” are usually looked down upon in this “progressive” world.

Today, we’ll close our eyes and think back to that first day... that first diaper... that first slammed door... that first date... that first trip to the emergency room... that first handing over of our car keys... that first giggle... the times we kissed boo-boo fingers that got caught in a door... the different voices for the books we read aloud time and time and time again... the first time we heard the pure love in the voice that said to us, “Daaaa-deeeee...” that melted our heart.

Then we’ll look to the future. Car accidents. Career paths. High school proms. Having “The Talk”. Having “The Talk” thrown back in your face. Training bras. Boyfriends and girlfriends, and not necessarily of the opposite gender. GPAs. “I hate you!!”’s. The late night phone calls pleading for you to come provide taxi service because the date turned out to be horrible. Waiting up for the late night phone call that hasn’t come yet because your child is getting revenge for not getting a cell phone like “everyone else.” Bear hugs through the tears. Schools. Colleges. Being suckered into giving a different answer than Mom and then taking the heat for it because you admire the kids’ ingenuity. 18^th birthday. Graduation. Letting go and realizing your next official function as father is to give your daughter away to some schmuck who’s marrying her, and you’re paying for the honor. Or being the father of the groom and for the first time ever fully appreciate the term “fifth wheel”.And through it all, as we close our eyes and reflect on times past and dream of things to come, we’re there. We’re THERE, standing right alongside, in spirit and body. And one day, we know, our child will be there on national television, having done some amazing thing that saves the world. And we’ll be watching them oh-so proudly, as they turn to the cameras, smile dazzlingly, wave brightly, and proudly call out with all their love:

“Hi, Mom!”

Happy Father’s Day to you all, my brothers.
By: Sean K. Thompson