Father’s Day

It was minutes after midnight, the beginning of my inaugural Father’s Day, and my son said Happy Father’s Day in a way only a one month old can do: he cooed, smiled, and dropped the diaper mess of all diaper messes. Somehow, I theorized that he was delivering an almost Zen-like commentary on what our relationship would be for years to come. Initially it seemed like what he was saying was “Daddy, we’ll chat, we’ll laugh and then you’ll have to put up with my shit, because you love me.” That seemed a little crass, even for one so young, and even at this age he seems much more pensive than that. I had to seek deeper meaning from my little bundle of joy. Perhaps what he was trying to say was “Daddy, they’ll be days when I make you proud, and days that we’ll laugh, but sometimes I’ll make a big mess.” This seemed a bit more of the level of the males in my family; philosophical, yet playfully mundane. Yet, for the boy who posed as Buddha in his mother’s womb, it lacked the touch of the chubby little Enlightener. It was then that the truth was revealed to me, and my little wonderful cherub set my mind ablaze:
“Dad…Shit happens! And when you feel it coming, chuckle, call your Dad and hope he knows how to clean it up!”
Thanks Dad. For all the messes you kept me from making, and all the messes you helped me clean up because life can be messy and sometimes you just have to chuckle and learn to lean on the people that love you.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to all you Dads!!!