Twelve Memories of Fatherhood
As Christmas approaches and at the risk of being imitative, I’ve decided to plow ahead and post this derivative of a holiday classic. I couldn’t help myself, the idea just sat in my head for days and had to find screen time.
It’s a short-list of a few experiences from my years of Fatherhood. I know every parent has their own style, opinions, and experiences. This list is meant to entertain only. I could include the time I ended up, in socked feet, and locked out of the house during a mid-February Canadian winter, while my three-year-old giggled inside, but that’s for another post.
One free facial. Daddy never looked so pretty!
Two Ski Buddies.
Three rocks in the car’s radiator: I once had the cap of the radiator off (it had cooled) so that I could add some fluid. A little hand appeared with three rocks in it, “Rocks in there, Daddy?”
The trio were promptly dropped into the opening before Daddy had any say in the matter.
Four Timbitscrammed into one and stuffed into a pocket: My fellow Canadians will get this one. Timbits are doughnut batter rolled into balls, filled with sugar, and baked. They are a product of Tim Horton’s. “For me? My what a big one! Oh wait, there’s actually four different kinds here, all mushed into one. We’ve got chocolate, jellied, apple fritter, and plain.”
Five Handfuls of Ground Coffee: I was once watching television when I heard my oldest, aged four at the time, repeating “Mmmmm!”
I’d just left her playing with her dolls in her room and had gone to do some laundry. I rushed into the kitchen to find out she’d broken the “toddler proof” locks and was cramming handfuls of coffee grounds into her mouth. We both needed a nap by the end of that day!
Six Muddy Handprints on the Grand Caravan: A lovely earth tone of puddle silt and pebbles to make the van “pretty.”
Seven miscellaneous “treasures” stuffed into the door handle of the Versa: A cavity of wonders, everything from chewed gum to that ‘had to have’ pebble that looks like ‘Dora the Explorer’s Head.’
Eight rolling tantrums in public spaces: Nothing like a good old-fashioned dusting of the jacket as you flail about the floor of Walmart like a possessed mop. That is, until Mommy or Daddy quickly scoop you up and either head outside or look for the shortest line up.
Nine Years of Living, the last before you each turned double digits: Time goes so fast.
Ten Fingers; five for each hand that holds onto mine, as the three of us walk through the park.
Eleven snow angels made before it’s time to go in for dinner. We never finished the last one.
Twelve (plus) years of joy. Love, and the privilege of being a parent of two smart, kind, and beautiful daughters! I love you both so much!