Hey world, I’m confused about something. Yesterday, I saw a million and one posts on Facebook that referred to other men as “the best dad ever.” I saw a lot of “Happy Father’s Day to the best dad in the world!!” Yes, people were generous with their exclamation points.
Come on. Why all the exaggeration? We can’t all be the best. I think you all know that, right? If there’s five million great dads, there’s five million shitty dads. Most fathers are average. And average is fine. Don’t be ashamed of your average father. My father is average. You didn’t see me calling my dad “the best in the whole, wide world” because I would be lying my ass off.
I think I know what you’re up to. Every single father wants to think he’s doing a great job. But let’s get real. What father wants to hear or read the truth? If we were all honest, we’d see some of this:
- Happy Father’s Day to my solid dad who has always tried really hard to be a good dad. Though he sometimes failed, he’s never stopped trying to improve.
- Happy Father’s Day to one of the best dads on his street!
- Happy father’s day to my dad who has improved his fatherly skills every year since 2007. Sure, he was a shitty dad for most of my childhood, but as he’s aged, he’s realized what a f**k-wad he used to be. Now, he’s no longer one of the worst dad’s in the world; he’s a couple of years from reaching the statistical average.
- I want to wish my father an unhappy father’s day because he basically ruined my life. I’m a stripper because of him, so, yeah, I hope he rots in hell because that’s where he’s going.
On the other hand, once in awhile you’ll come across a tremendously skilled father. Not very often. It’s like, once in a lifetime.
Take me, for instance. According to the rankings, I’ve finally cracked the top 100 dads of the world. Don’t believe me? I received a major award by certified mail last week.
I wish you could experience my skills. Someone should make a documentary. Seriously. I father like Tom Brady plays quarterback. (No, that doesn’t work because sometimes Tom Brady has a bad game.) I father like the sun puts off heat. I father so awesomely that it would make you woozy. Some say I “father like God.” Whatever that means.
I overwhelm my daughters with 324 megatons of love every day. I give so many hugs, my arm muscles are huge.
They think (know) I’m hilarious. I’m so much fun that they have rock-solid abdominal muscles from laughing so much.
I allow them to be messy and creative. I allow them to make mistakes. But yet, I know when to rein them in and when to administer the perfect amount of discipline. There’s a fine line between being too permissive and too strict and I have finally found it.
I do not physically spank my daughters, but I subtly alter my voice and face to end unwanted behavior. It’s called a “mental spanking,” which I invented. I have been widely published on the topic in many obscure scholarly journals that you’ll never read.
My daughters don’t even know they’re being mentally spanked. They just automatically do the right thing and think it was their own idea.
I can quell an argument between my daughters with a deft swipe of my pinky finger. Out in public, strangers are like “Hey handsome father, how’d you do that? Are you, like, a Jedi Knight or something?”
I say “Actually, I’m not a Jedi, but I can see how my amazing dad skills would make you ask that.”
Sometimes, I let them hash out their differences by themselves. The ratio between when I intervene and when I lay back is perfect.
I impart wisdom to them every hour of every day.
I have already guaranteed their lifelong happiness.
I would go on, but I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging. It’ll get a little weird.
Just know that I’m on to your games, your “best dad” bull**it.
Your dad is average and you know it.