My husband finished work early and I invited him to come along to Target with me, to find a small $5 gift for the father’s day stall at our son’s school. Apparently the offer of such a fun-filled afternoon was too tempting to resist, and a short time later we were wandering around the store.
He took a business call when I happened to pick up a mug;
“World’s Greatest Father,” it read.
He finished his call and looked at it sitting in my hands. He stared at it thoughtfully for a few seconds before announcing; “You know whoever manufactures those mugs should stop processing the tens of thousands they do every year. They should just make one, and sell it for a fortune.”
I laughed my way around the store as he stared at me perplexed. “I love these moments;” I told him. “The moments where I am not only reminded why I married you, but actually glad that I did.”
Yes, like many women I spend a good percentage of my lifetime frustrated my husband, and the drawbacks of being married to a man with so many (perceived) faults.
Things like loose socks left lying around, spilled coffee on the kitchen counter, cartoon watching, buying whoopee cushions for our son, procrastinating of household chores, the insistence that imported beer is definitely one of the five food groups (and considered daily necessity for basic survival), and the resulting beer bottle caps that are found all over the house.
With these constant reminders of how my life would be neater, cleaner, less work and more peaceful if I were not married, its good to get another reminder; that it would be a heck of a lot less fun, as well.
That said, happy early fathers day to my husband. Never forget the words of the old man in Cracker Barrel who leaned over his table to ours and said;
“I’ve been watching you since we sat down, and I just want to congratulate you on being a really fantastic father.” (I need to mention here that he said nothing of my excellent mothering skills, an omition that I am sure was merely oversight.)
Funny, and a fantastic father. I guess I can pick up a few more socks and tolerate another episode of The Avengers, (that show that you insist is not a cartoon, but in fact animated television).
You’re a bit of all right.