Some folks seem to think that as a single parent dad, Father’s Day should equate to being like Christmas for me, but I detest it and wish it didn’t exist.
It isn’t because I’m sad at being around to celebrate them each year, when at the same time my child’s mother isn’t around to enjoy Mother’s Day.
I just think a predetermined day, where convention says we ‘celebrate’ dads actually says ‘fatherhood, we acknowledge your existence, here, have a card with you name on proclaiming you the greatest.’
It’s so robotic.
Every day is Father’s Day.
And if it isn’t, you’re doing it wrong.
Sometimes it’s the smallest of gestures, at the most random times, that make me feel loved and appreciated as a daddy.
I don’t need a greatest daddy mug, really, I don’t. I already have one.
Because he’s shit at hiding things, I am aware of a couple of gifts that I assume will be presented to me this Sunday. Which is great, if it’s sweets, as I’ll accept any excuse for receiving products of Swizzles Matlow.
With my child only being six-years-old I am grateful when he goes to any effort making a card for me, Father’s Day or otherwise, and I certainly don’t want him to think he is doing anything wrong by getting me something.
But I do want him to know that it doesn’t matter, and that I know how much he loves me, and he can demonstrate that however and whenever he likes.
You do it without even knowing Buster.
And that’s what’s beautiful about being a dad.
I don’t need a card.
I will be seeing my own dad on Father’s Day, but this is more because my mother has abandoned him for a few days, and left alone for too long he can get malnourished. And I wouldn’t like that to happen.
Because I love him.
Which I hope he knows, despite the fact he won’t be getting any laminated cardboard with his name on.