Father's Day. I don't ask for much. I don't ask for anything, actually. Anything tangible, that is. I went for a run and took three naps during the course of the day. Peanut and I watched Wreck-It Ralph, my new favorite movie. She and My Director made me breakfast. We walked the dogs and Peanut rode her bike in the park. That's all I needed. Some time to myself and some time with my ladies.
The best part of Father's Day, to me, is the homemade gifts from Peanut. In previous years, she made portraits of us. This year, however, she channeled her inner blogger and wrote about me. Here's what she wrote:
I was floored. This is what my daughter thinks of me? These are the words she chose to describe me? I was stunned to the point of asking My Director, "Does she even know me?"
Nice: This, I guess, is relative. I am nice to her. I am nice to most. But I can be very not nice at times. I can only assume I have done an excellent job of
Calm: Huh? Me? Maybe I outwardly project calm. But she's never seen me in the control room at work. Dropping eff bombs like I'm getting paid a nickel per shot. On the inside, I am a whirlpool inside a tornado.
Kind: See "Nice" above.
Funny: Ok. Now she gets me. For example, instead of calling it "Father's Day," she mimicked me and called it "Fahz-sha's Day," like in the Austin Powers movie Goldmember:
Ticklish: Guilty as charged. But I will have you know that I am currently undefeated in tickle fights in my household. You mess with the bull you get the horns.
As amused and touched as I was by Peanut's words, I still had a difficult time believing them. Even though My Director insisted Peanut chose them herself. No coaching or coaxing from her teacher. Then I read what My Director wrote in her card to me:
Your daughter will always allow you to see yourself in the best way possible. Believe in what she sees.Someday I hope to be half the man my daughter thinks I am.