To the men we call Dad
Dads are quite a thing. They are a unique blend of protector, mischief maker, provider and teller of terrible jokes.
Some of you were dads from the very moment your kid took its first breath. Some wildly trusting person handed you this helpless, tiny human and trusted you not to drop it, break it or kill it. And you’ve spent every minute of your life since then trying to do just that and more. Some days were harder than others. Some days killing that ungrateful, insolent little snot was just barely off the table. But for as terrible as your kids could behave you loved them even harder.
Others of you stepped up to another man’s kid and wore the title Dad with pride. You took those kids, your kids, to baseball practices and ballet. You made fools of yourselves at Daddy-Daughter dances and gave your sons that meaningful nod when he brought his first truly significant other home.
You accepted and loved those kids thus guiding them become successful adults, decent people and hard workers; even if you yourself are not completely sure how to be any of those things. You put food on the table and clothes on their backs. And when they grew out of those clothes two weeks later you put more clothes on their back. And when they grew out of those two weeks later you cut off the jeans because you are not made of money and jorts never hurt anyone.
You barely hid your grins when your sons could not keep their hands out of their underoos because they had discovered their own penis and it was all hands-on deck, all the time, no matter how much it horrified their mother. You threatened to cut off any teenage cock-a-doodle-doo that even thought about coming near your little girl.
You endured awkward conversations about lady bits and underthings. You explained condoms and birth control through the blushing and nervous laughter because it was just as awkward for you as it is for them You tried to warn your sons about swamp crotch and athlete’s foot. You tried to shield your daughters from both because you know better than anyone that men are just disgusting most of the time. You chuckled as you watched your boys try hard to be clever about unsticking their balls from their thighs. You probably even shared your best tricks for doing it. Hopefully you’ve shared a HappySac with them by now. If you have not, it is not too late. You don’t even have to say anything when it arrives. Just hand it to them and they’ll figure it out.
You taught the boys how to be men and the girls how to tell the difference.
So much of what you did has gone unacknowledged. Once a year everyone rallies around to remember just how much goes into being you. This year is no different. So, to all the dads out there, we join the chorus of praise:
For all the moments you decided not to murder them (because seriously, what in the world was going through that tiny little brain of theirs?), we thank you. For that one thing you did and said, “Never tell Mom,” your secret is still safe. For being there from the very first moments or for stepping in a little later, we love you. For the moments you let your kids, steal and melt and break your heart, we salute you.
From all of us here at HappySacs, Happy Father’s Day to the ballsiest guys out there