Not All Dads

The daddy in our house has many talents. He can:

- Salsa dance, kinda

- Smoke those really gross cigarillos without gagging

- Work our complex coffee machine. That thing is so annoying. It's got like 30 buttons and they all just make coffee dust if I try it. He swoops in there like a NASA operator while I sleep an extra 30 minutes every morning. It's like I live at Starbucks - newspapers appear and wi-fi goes in and out and people hang out making crumbs all day.

- Deal with people. Seriously, I don't know how he does it. He has to talk to people all day long and usually they're angry. The only people I talk to are my kids and the conversations are like,

KID 1: Mom, what happens to a fly when you kill him?

ME: Err, he goes to fly heaven?

KID 2: He's in the paper towel! Mom killed him and now he's in the trash!

KID 1: Stella's sitting on my leg!

KID 2: NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! HUNGRY!

KID 3: "BABABABABABABABABABABBA"

But it's all at the same time, like a bunch of auctioneers in a verbal fist fight.

The dad in this house does other things too. He works his ass off for us, not just at his job, but doing his part to raise the three kids we crafted together. Of course lots of his parts are fun, like back rides and s'mores construction while mine are of the "eat your broccoli, stop sitting on the baby" variety. He also takes out the trash and recycling. Niko orates real bedtime stories straight from the book as well. Me, I skip words and trail off in my imagination until I get tired and say, "THE END! LIGHTS OUT!"

Not all dads have his patience. Or his dedication. Or his massive thatch of shampoo-commercial hair and let's face it, that played a big part in our courtship. Male peacocks lure females with their massive eye feathers and man turtles score with lady turtles by strutting (slowly) to show off their sturdy shells. My husband's mane was like a net fer lady-catchin' back in the middle-2000's. Now, when I get down about internet trolls or carbohydrates, I just stroke that trophy of a coif and it brings me peace, like an old lady with a drowsy lap cat. He let's me do that. I also get to pick movies, friends, school districts, decor and I have veto rights over all restaurant decisions.

Niko is a great husband, but just as important, he's a great parent.  He does what he does not because it's the expected norm, but because he likes being hands on. He snuggles. He reads. He bathes. He dresses. He brushes teeth that are noshing on the toothbrush like it's some kind of Toostie pop as drool drips down his hands and bedtime can't come fast enough. He's here when he's here.

Not all dads can say that.

This one can.

Happy Father's Day, Pops, and to all the good daddies out there!

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Filed under: Daddy issues

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