World's Okayest Father

[insert dad joke here]

Ties. Grill utensil set. Beef Jerky of the Month Club gift certificate. Watch. Cologne. Ironically witty T-shirt that adorns every tourist trap gift shop in America. The uniform of the classic father sets a distinguishable vision of a man who works hard and plays hard, peppered with dad jokes all along the way.

I think a lot of that ideal is driven by Father’s Day and the very common challenge of finding a gift for dad. Who the hell knows what we want? Somebody, somewhere had the great idea of making a list of essentials that dads could always use, even if they didn’t know it. Generations later, the traditions have become timeless.

For many years, I was on the younger side of the equation. I had two—and then later, four—dads (bio + stepfather + 2 dad-in laws), so there were a lot of cards and beers exchanged until I had my first kid. But for the past few years, I’ve found myself with one two close to three girls who have had the kindness to let me forego dad duties one single day of the year. But that’s actually not quite true, as I still had to empty the dishwasher and make Minnie Mouse waffles while the kids create a 57-clue scavenger hunt that may or may not lead to my lost car keys and wallet.

On the flip side, I now qualify for free Krispy Kreme and a complimentary burrito supreme crunch wrap at Taco Bell. Ah, the perks! Throw in a few brewskis, cat nap and golf watching, and I have myself quite a day. It also sets the stage for a mind-numbing retrospective on your life. You think about the people that have had a major impact on the person you’ve become and the responsibility you now have on these crazy creatures sitting on your couch watching YouTube. Needless to say, it’s all a bit heavy and doesn’t necessarily fit nicely inside a greeting card.

It’s wild to think that the next 40 or 50 years (maybe 60 or 70 with modern medicinal miracles!) will be highlighted with snapshots of fatherhood, from toddlers to teens to thirtysomethings. All three daughters will grow through pictures, each becoming their own person, marked by different talents and eccentricities. All the while, I’ll be exactly the same, stuck somewhere in time trying to figure out where all the years went. And every June, we’ll (hopefully) hang out, exchange stories and laugh at those same dad jokes. I’ll open witty cards and unwrap those boxed clichés as they mock my vintage sneakers and roll their eyes to the alternative 90s rock that provided a soundtrack for my youth.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.