When it comes to Father's Day, it's kind of a bummer that my parents live so close by. Daddy always has to share the day with my dad. Of course, my dad is hardly an attention hog (just the opposite), so we had a nice, relaxed day where we met my parents for breakfast at their favorite breakfast joint, Daddy took a nice, quiet trip to the farmer's market on his own, then we packed up a picnic lunch and re-met my parents for a picnic in the park. We all played catch for a long time, hung out on the grass, munched sandwiches. Then we parted ways and Daddy opted for pizza and movie night.
All in all, it probably wasn't as much celebration as my kids' Daddy deserved. 'Cause see, he's gotta be one of the best dads ever.He's the perfect complement to my parenting style. When I'm out of patience, he usually has some to spare (and vice versa). He knows all kind of random crap, so when I say "I don't know, you'll have to ask Daddy." I really mean it. And he loves to explain all that random crap to his kids...especially his ever-curious son. He beams with pride at Smunch's quest for random knowledge. His little boy worships him.
And although Mam appears to worship me (a position in which I'm decidedly uncomfortable), no one should underestimate her love for Daddy either. If she has to get stitches or go for any other medical procedure she deems scary, no one is as good as Daddy. I just don't have the kind of comforting skills that he has in those situations. I think I get too stressed out myself.
He brushes teeth, packs lunches, coaxes splinters out of little fingers, fixes computer problems, sets television limits and keeps the daily clutter from becoming unbearable.
And, of course, he's been a fantastic partner is this grand adventure of parenting. He's the reason I don't know how anyone does this on their own.