The Daddy Blogger - What Dads Are Like

Last updated: 05/10/2013 10:17 by johnmadden78 to johnmadden78's Blog
Filed under: Family
A couple of weeks ago I was taking my almost-two-year-old son around the shops when I ran over something with the buggy. This trip around the shops is a Saturday ritual at Madden Mansions, but whereas most weeks Mrs. M comes with us, every so often I take AJ (as I'll be calling the almost-two-year-old in this space) on my own to give her a break. This was one of those Saturdays. The ritual is quite nice for all concerned, I think - Mrs. M gets some peace and quiet, AJ and I get some father/son time. More often than not we head to Starbucks first – coffee and cake for me, juice and cake for him. He chats away to me, mostly using the syllable 'ba', and tries to steal my phone. I ask as many pertinent questions as I can ('ba' can be quite a complicated topic, as it turns out), and try to keep cake out of his hair.
 
When we've finished, we'll do the grocery shopping for the week and then head for home. It was on the way out of Starbucks that I felt the telltale bump. Just behind me was the shoe that AJ had decided wasn't strictly necessary and had taken off and dropped. Before I could pick it up, a lady – about my own age, maybe a little older, scooped it up and handed it to me with a smile. "Thanks," I said. "I'd have been killed if I'd lost that." I have no idea if this is true, but I don't want to test it. "That's okay," she said, and turned to go. Then she added "I know what dads are like." "Wait!" I wanted to shout after her. I'm not like those dads you're thinking of! I've gotten up at 4am and I do the bedtime routine! I can dress and bathe him! I know all the words to all the songs you'll ever hear on Playhouse Disney, what brand baby wipes to get, what the second and third alternates are and what not to buy! I can fit and remove a car seat while carrying a change bag, I can fold a buggy one handed. I can sew buttons and iron, I've done countless loads of laundry, many of which came out the same colour and size as they were going in. I've changed nappies you wouldn't believe, lady! But I didn't say any of that.
 
I stood there holding a tiny Dunnes Stores Converse lookalike while my son busied himself with the laces of the other one. The thing is, she's not even the first person to say something, or at least imply something like this before. On more than one occasion some instructions or advice relating to our son's well-being have been conveyed to my wife in a very casual, almost indifferent manner. And then explained to me. Slowly. In great detail. With emphasis on the particularly important parts. And with an offer to write it down for me. As we went around the supermarket, I couldn't help but wonder if I actually was the good-natured but bumbling sitcom father that people picture when they hear the word 'dad'. I've been doing this for almost two years – but at the same time, I've only been doing this two years! Cleaning up barf at two in the morning and fetching bottles and blankets and towels and pushing buggies and being nice and polite and funny doesn't necessarily make me a good dad- it makes me a good janitor. I haven't yet helped with homework or taught anyone to ride a bike or taken a sneaky day off work to cheer someone on at a school football game or given sage advice about girls or bullies or college choices.
 
Maybe I'm not a doofus named 'Dad' yet, but who's to say I won't be? Maybe I've just gotten lucky so far. Of course, I don't know any dads – of my generation at least – who do fit the old-fashioned, hands-off, 'which-way-round-does-the-nappy-go-again?' mould. I've seen my fellow dad friends almost literally juggling two daughters, I've heard dozens of sleepless-night stories. I don't know anyone who doesn't put on all the voices for 'The Gruffalo' or 'We're Going On A Bear Hunt'. Okay, we're not always perfect. I've taught my son words like 'car' and 'cookie' while his mother taught him 'please' and 'thank you'. But 'please' is no good unless you convey that it's a cookie you're after, right?
 
Once we were finished, and everything was paid for I looked down at AJ, who had been picking at a small box of raisins from the kiddie seat in the trolley. "Do you think I'm a good dad?" I asked him. By way of response he handed me the raisin box, which was now empty. From the trail of them behind us it looked like we'd been followed by a diarrheic rabbit. "Car," he said, pointing at the car.
 
When we got home, AJ rushed straight towards the TV in the hopes of Special Agent Oso or Waybuloo making an appearance while Mrs. M and I brought the shopping through to the kitchen. "Did you get the frozen veg?" she asked, looking through the bag that the frozen veg was conspicuously absent from. "Oh," I said. "I forgot. Sorry." "That's okay," said the wife, folding up the freezer bag. "I know what you're like."
 
Déanta in Éirinn - Sheology
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