With Father’s Day upon us, allow me to pontificate on a sore subject for parents of the male persuasion everywhere: Where’s the love?
Mothers, on their special day, are treated to breakfast in bed, hugs and kisses, adoring smiles, flower bouquets, and saccharine greetings cards. Whereas Dads on Father’s Day are lucky to get a random, “Hey bruh,” from their kids.
Ubiquitous “Hi Mom” sign. I defy you to show me a Dad equivalent.
I get it. Moms are prime time in kids’ lives. They’re Wonder Woman. Captain Marvel. You might think Dad would at least rate Mr. Incredible, but in reality he’s a background player. Like a walk-on part in a movie. Preferably blurred or out of focus.
Or maybe we’re like the key grip of the family. Behind the scenes, coordinating the equipment, but not even close to being the director. Tasks being: killing spiders, replacing light bulbs, changing batteries, lifting heavy stuff.
Yeah, not the kinds of things Hallmark memorializes on cards:
Thanks Daddy, for providing your X or Y chromosome. Well, done. Now go fix something around the house while we cuddle with Mommy.
There’s a lot of talk these days about being seen. People want and need to “be seen.” Dads have to wonder sometimes if our superpower is invisibility. I know of guys who’ve come home from, say, a week-long business trip only to be greeted by their kids with, “Oh, we didn’t even know you were gone.”
I’m old enough to remember when, “Wait ’till your father gets home,” was a standard refrain. Now, it’s more like, “Wait, father isn’t home?”
Conversely, Mom leaves the house for a weekend or an hour or five minutes and it’s the apocalypse. You know how dogs can sit endlessly by the door or window waiting for their master to return? That’s my kids when Mommy is out.
Let’s face it, although Moms won’t agree, truly, every day is Mother’s Day. But thankfully, in June, Fathers at least get one stinkin’ day where the kids have to acknowledge us — even if its only because they’re forced to make us a card and to squirm for a picture.
Hey, don’t get me wrong. This is not a screed against Mom. She has a difficult job and does it well. And it’s not a rap on my kids. I love my kids. And some day, some day, I gotta believe some day, they’ll appreciate their old man!
And on that day, I swear it, I’m gonna see that glorious hand-drawn sign pop up in the stands at a ball game. And it doesn’t even have to say, “Hi Dad.”
“Hey Bruh!” would do.