A Special Father’s Day

What a great Father’s Day I’m having!

I got to sleep in this morning, and when I came out of the room, it was to the wonderful aroma of fresh cooked bacon and eggs. Alice Cooper was on the radio, singing “Hello, Hooray,” which I felt was a pretty appropriate song for my Father’s Day appearance. And most importantly, everyone…including my wife…seemed genuinely pleased to see me.

They also all lavished me with well thought out gifts. Not the last minute, “I really have no clue who this guy is that I’m buying something for” gift, but actual good ones…

A beautiful picture of my daughter and I…one with an expression on her face that just cracks me up every time…in a “Daddy’s Girl” frame.

An awesome collage type picture with shots of me and all the kids.

Those awesome chocolate candies that are crunchy and wrapped in gold paper. I have absolutely zero clue what the hell they’re called, but wow, are they good.

From my wife, a name brand, expensive man perfume. Not that I stink or anything. She just sometimes prefers me to smell like something other than the food I spilled on myself.

And this thing…
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We all spent the day together, listening to music and playing by the pool. And there were no arguments*!

Now, as I sit down to write this, after a phenomenal steak dinner, I realize how truly blessed I am. Not just for the awesome gifts, or the quality time we all spent together, but for something even more. Something that happens so often, that when it doesn’t happen, it actually causes me to sit back and reflect on how often it does happen.

On this holiest and most revered day for all fathers, I didn’t get kicked, punched, or otherwise hit in the nuts.

Yep, you read that right.

Most, if not all dads will understand what I’m talking about here. It happens to all of us.

All the time.

It’s like the dad version of moms complaining about their boobs.

Kid crawls into bed with dad and mom? 10 to 1, dad’s getting nailed in the nuts

Dad roughhouses with kid? Dad usually takes one in the yambag.

Piggyback ride? Heel to the plums.

Small kids running around the house, not paying any attention to where they’re going? Boom.

And my favorite, dad just sitting on the couch and kid wants to jump in his lap? Forget about it.

My wife doesn’t always understand how these things could sideline a guy for a bit. It hurts if the wind blows the wrong way on those guys. Take a direct hit, and you’ll be on the ground crying in the fetal position, faster than a mom watching a Nicholas Sparks movie. David and Goliath? David beaned Goliath in the marbles.

So anyway, I’m thankful for everything this Father’s Day. It was totally great. For all these reasons. I know the day isn’t completely over yet, but I’ve done good so far. And that’s a pretty major accomplishment, with all the hugs and playing around, and whatnot.

I hope you guys had a great Father’s Day, and everybody’s nuts made it through ok.

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* There was, of course, an argument before I got to the end of writing this, but if you’ve read any previous posts…heck, if you’ve even read a small part of any previous posts…you wouldn’t be surprised at all!

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daddyanarchy

daddyanarchy

I write stuff. And I have Poodles. Big Poodles. The Poodles don't write stuff.

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8 Comments on A Special Father’s Day

  1. Happy Fathers Day! I am still a little bit invalid-ish, so neither my husband nor my dad actually got Fathers Day presents. So I feel like a tool. Maybe I should punch myself in the yambag.

  2. I think I am going to go downstairs and ask my husband about his balls. I had no idea they could be injured on a regular basis. Thanks for the interesting conversation starter.

    • Hey, that’s what I’m here for! Think of it like a really old…and wrinkled…person, who lives on their own…you periodically need to check in on them to make sure everything’s hunky dory.

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