I wrote the post below while on the verge of hysterical eruption. 48 hours later, I am just slightly less furious with the person called “Dad” in this house. Although I contemplated rubbing poison ivy oil all over his shiny bald head, I remind myself that this man has logged in 102,839,849 hours of baseball catches with The Oldest. At bedtime, he sings to our daughter his homeade lullabies. His tired, achy back will still willingly haul our 66 lb middle kid around when he says, “Daddy’s shoulders?” Further, he woke up extra early today to make each of them cooked to-order breakfast before a long travel week. He truly is the perfect Dad for this family.
Happy Father’s Day???
I hope you all enjoyed a fantastic Father’s Day. Perhaps you took the father of your children to brunch, maybe you had his car detailed? For sure you orchestrated the creation of all the childrens’ “homemade” gifts. Who doesn’t want more fragile pottery creations to clutter up counter space? Pat yourselves on the back, ladies. I am sure you provided a lovely day for the dad of the house.
I must report that this household didn’t share in such joy. I was on a bit of a boycott.
My husband made an error on Saturday afternoon. A mistake so profound, it caused me to … call his mother crying. Let’s just say there will be NO social media postings with me declaring him “best Dad EVER”.
Why, why such anger, you ask? (Am I being melodramatic?)
MY HUSBAND instructed our friend to SHAVE OFF OUR SON’S BEAUTIFUL HAIR. (Officer Scott, RUN the next time you see me.)
Know this, The Middle is MY child. He is the only one of our brood whom my husbands’ dominant genes has not overtaken. He is wild and silly and a little bit weird. He still holds my hand and will sneak into my bed in the middle of the night when he has a nightmare. You will find me during his wedding reception laying on a bathroom floor sobbing.
He has spectacular hair that has been described as something you’d buy off a Starbucks menu. Caramel in color with blondish highlights, silky and wavy. I.love.his.hair. The lady who works at the Giant deli loves his hair. EVERYONE LOVES HIS HAIR. As a toddler he had auburn ringlets I used to trim myself. When I am an old lady waiting for death to come take me, I will have visions of his hair.
Yes, of course, the buzz cut was requested. And, yes of course, said child loves it. And, yes, I know it will grow back, but all Dad haircut priveledges have been forever revoked in this house!