Q: What does every dad secretly want for Father’s Day?
I’ll tell you, but it’s not going to be much of a secret after I do.
See, every dad is different, of course. So I’m definitely not going to bat a thousand on this one. But I’ll take a few swings and make a few more baseball metaphors.
Here are a few of the things I want. I’m a dad. That’s probably why you asked me.
- Someone to turn a few of the lights off in my house. Every light in the house is always on. I keep turning them off, the rest of them keep turning them right back on. My corneas can only take so much.
- No more dandelions in my yard. This doesn’t mean that I want one of my kids to pick out a bouquet of the dandelions and give them to me on Father’s Day. That just makes more grow in their place. Go get Daddy some fertilizer that takes care of dandelions, and time for him to put his Beats by Dre headphones on and walk around in circles across the lawn while pushing a fertilizer spreader.
- Some Beats by Dre headphones. Blue, preferably.
- They’re cliché; I get that. But I love them. I can’t get enough of them. I want a tie with panda bears on it, one with a cartoon character saying something dismissive about Mondays, a blue one, a really shiny one that looks expensive, one with a North Dakota theme because I am a North Dakotan and I like people to know that, one with piano keys on it and a skinny tie because I’m new wave.
- Lots and lots of baseball metaphors. And a book of bad jokes. And someone to agree to laugh at all my bad jokes. My self-esteem suffers when the kids don’t laugh at my jokes.
- I want the kids to ask me if I want something to eat or drink. I like chocolate milk too! Or purple stuff! On Father’s Day, while I’m getting them their libations, one of them ought to say, “Hey, Dad. Grab something for yourself, while you’re up. You’ve earned it.”
- I’ve always wanted a bucket, a mop and an illustrated book about birds. For some reason.
- A safe world for my kids. One where I don’t have to worry all the time about all the terrible things that might possibly happen to them. I’ve still got most of my hair, so I must not be worrying near enough. And that really concerns me, since it feels like I’m always worrying. Especially about the boy. He can seemingly climb any surface known to man, as long as my back is turned. One of these days, I’m going to turn around and he’ll be up on the roof. Of the Governor’s mansion. Doesn’t look safe, up there.
- A greeting card is nice, too. Or a paperweight with the kid’s handprint in it. I worry about what will happen to my papers without proper support.