I used to believe a good father was one who built the largest home for his family.
Or drove the fanciest cars.
Or wore the finest tailored suits.
Or played 18 each week at the country club.
Or owned the neighborhood’s only riding lawn mower.
That’s what I thought anyway. I assumed fathers were supposed to focus 95% of their energy on work and the remainder doing yard work and watching football.
No worries though.
Mom to the rescue. She’ll be there to wipe the tears and bandage the scrapes. She’ll attend the field trips and parent teacher conferences. She knows my favorite snack is Cap’N Crunch from 7-11 cup and chocolate milk from the carton.
In other words, she’s everything the father isn’t.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. It shouldn’t be this way.
What makes a good father?
I’m still trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. At best, the border is in place.
What I choose to wear or drive makes no difference.
But how much time I spend reading to them does.
So does raking leaves together, camel rides and hot chocolate runs.
One piece at a time.