So of course it's Father's Day, which means a bunch of fluff pieces about Dads and even stay-at-home-dads. Of course, thanks to Michael Frikking Keaton, 86.7% of these will roughly contain the phrase "Mr. Mom."
I am not a Mr. Mom. I am not a manny. I am not some schmuck in an apron who doesn't know how to vacuum and feeds the kids chili. I am not going to blow up the house, or any of that crap.
The phrase intimates that I am TRYING to be mom. I am doing nothing of the sort and anyone who is needs a talking to.
I tell my kids to walk it off. I laugh at a little blood. I do not panic unless stitches or a cast will be necessary.
A face full of dirt is fine until you are done playing football. Even if you are a girl. My mouth is sufficient to sanitize a pacifier (well maybe not, but in a pinch what are you going to do?).
If my child shoves your child because your child was nasty to her, I will tell you she deserved it, even while I scold my child for getting physical. If our children are rolling around on the grass (or mud, or asphalt, or dog poo) rough-housing and they are laughing, I will not intervene, unless one is on the brink of bone-damage. If one cries, I will help them up, and get them to laugh it off.
I am a Dad and proud of it. I am not a mom. And if you call me one, I'm liable to punch you in the face.
Thank you.
Enjoyed this brash post as well as the one below on travel. Just got back from a trip myself. My little guy was fussy on the flight and I was trying to soothe him by singing "row, row, your boat." The business traveler in the seat in front of me kept asking me to keep my singing down...
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