My three-year-old ran to his dad and said, "Mommy wouldn't let me play with this empty box." My husband looked at me with a look of "Oh brother! Let the kids be kids," but my son forgot to mention it was the knife he had in his hand that I had objected to. He had been using one of my BIG, long, kitchen bread knives to cut holes in the box. It wasn't the box I feared, it was that sharp, jagged edged object protruding from my son's hands that I feared. Well, Dad let him play with the box and that's all my three-year-old cared about. He hadn't given me time to explain. Once again, Dad was the "right" one. Dad had come through for him.
I can't tell my kids that their father isn't the saint of fun they think he is. I wouldn't dare crush their image of him. How could I possibly tell them that this wonderful, adoring father couldn't even look at a poopy diaper, let alone touch one, when they were babies? If they happened to throw up while they were sick Mom had to clean it up while Dad sat in the other room heaving at just the thought of cleaning it up! Making the dishes dirty was his job! Making the bathroom a mess was his job. Making dirty laundry was his job. Turning over at night to nudge the Mommy awake by telling her one of the kids was crying was his job. OH! To be the dad.
Then I saw the light! I was having a bad day. (Hey! I'm entitled. I'm the mommy!) Dad came walking in the door just as our eight-year-old and I were discussing her choice of makeup style - ya know, the deep red clown cheeks with bright pink eyeshadow covering half of her forehead and gobs of lipstick smeared on her lips and half of her chin. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and this beholder wasn't beholding much, but Dad walked in at just the precise moment. He looked at our eight-year-old and asked her to go on a parade with him around the neighborhood. She was thrilled. She walked along side of him, as he became the pied piper with a trail of neighbor kids behind him. They were all laughing and talking and he was showing them the plants and the flowers of all the other neighborhood homes! What a guy! What a dad! The kids were just enjoying being with an adult who paid attention to them and listened to their questions. I had to hand it to him. He took the kids out of my bad hair day and made them laugh. He even made me laugh and we both saw that, YES! Dad is fun while Mom strives to keep the house together and the family in clean underwear!
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