I loved handing the telephone to my husband all day. It was Father’s Day and the children–and grandchildren–and a son-in-law–wanted to talk with the man, the papa, the dad, the father. I had bought a card and wrote a rabbling note on it. I went from saying he was a guiding light to having fun and laughing a lot to whatever. It was difficult to put my thoughts on paper. On the one hand, it is so very easy to see where he is challenged in domestic tasks. On the other hand, being a father is not easy. You go to work where you have some degree of control and know what you are doing. You come home and there is cooking and laundry and cleaning to be done. Each job requires a new vocabulary that is probably not used at work. New tools. Often not very manly tools. And someone else in the house seems to do these jobs very easily. And then, there are the children. More new vocabulary. And why aren’t they doing what you used to do to have fun? Why do they laugh when I call the vacuum a sweeper? And what is a wii?
The man deserved every good thing about today. He means the world to me.
