Today’s the day when hard-working dads come home to a hot bath filled with rose petals. It’s a day when all mothers are ignored and all flags are flown at full-staff just like on regular days.
My dad brought me into this world after carrying me around in his testicles for nearly 72 hours. And when the time came for my journey through his urethra, he endured it without complaint, simply uttering “AHHHHHHHRRGG YEAHHHH!!!”
When I was nine, I remember asking him where fathers came from, which is a question most fathers wouldn’t know how to answer. But without a hint of embarrassment, he sat down for 15 minutes and gave me the sex talk in reverse.
No matter how sad I was, Dad always knew how to fill my cheeks with good cheer. As a 7th-grader, I came home crying one day because all the other kids hated me for being a violent bully. But Dad assured me that none of it mattered, because regardless of what those kids said, I was blocking the TV.
Every once in a while, I’d catch him in a vulnerable state that made it impossible for him to hide his self-loathing, and this terrified me. Seeing Dad cry was like watching Captain America lose his erection. But I’ve come to understand that despite his flowing back hair and never-ending forehead, he was just as human as anyone else.
It seems to me that a father is someone who has at least one son or daughter. I hope to God that I’m right about that. And I hope my dad forgives me for making him famous with my “Shit My Dad Shat” Instagram account. I also hope he likes this Deluxe Peni-cure Set from Bed Bath & Beyond. Happy Father’s Dad!
