Father's Day

I'm a little confused right now. Yesterday was Father's Day. My first Father's Day. I thought that this would mark my official entry into some secret club. Some guy right out of a Norman Rockwell painting would show up at my door with his little 10-year-old scamp in tow, both of them carrying baseball mitts, the son with a jar full of fireflies. Then the dad would hand me a certificate, maybe a secret decoder ring... something with a special password that only fathers are privy to that unlocks a whole new world of secrets. Kind of like that old SNL skit where Eddie Murphy goes undercover as a white person.

Maybe it would teach me how to tie a square knot, how to build a tree fort, proper etiquette for attending tea parties etc... (maybe there are two different passwords for sons and daughters.) Then I figured there would be some type of parade for me. Nothing ridiculous of course. Just simple and classy. 

I didn't really know how the rest of the day was supposed to pan out, just that Shelbi feeding me grapes would be prominently involved. But that didn't happen. I don't know if the proper authorities didn't have my address or if I needed to send in some form shortly after Elliott's birth. I mean, don't get me wrong, I got a very nice candlelit dinner out of the deal (no grapes). But I still have no idea how to install drywall, how to stop my bathtub from dripping and I'm pretty crappy at skipping stones. I was pretty sure this was all going to be cleared up on Father's Day but, looking back, I probably should have just joined the Boy Scouts.

 

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