First Sunday, September 2010
Happy Father’s Day, darling! And you too, Papa. In fact, happy Father’s Day to all my friends and family members (who are fathers!). I've included the picture of our home that Zack created for El especially, which I thought was really clever! He even tried to include our house number, bless his cotton socks . . .
While Elliott is having one of his first ever sleep-ins (he’s usually the early bird at the weekend), I thought I would ask Google to find me some responses to the key words, “Father’s Day”. The very first link that popped up was the trusty (most of the time) Wikipedia, which started its definition with the following words of wisdom:
“Father's Day is a widely known celebration honoring fathers and celebrating fatherhood, paternal bonds, and the influence of fathers in society ….”
Most of the rest of the Wikipedia blurb was not that interesting, though it does mention that the day only became an official holiday after decades of squabbling in 1972, when President Richard Nixon signed it into law. Thanks Mr Pres.
It also says that we actually share our Australian Father’s Day with New Zealand, Fiji and Papua New Guinea, but that the majority of countries seem to celebrate on the third Sunday in June ... let alone the other 25 days on the annual calendar when other countries honour their Dads! That actually means that somewhere in the world, every 14 days, a Father’s Day is being celebrated. Wow!
Last year, the Daily Telegraph in the UK featured 20 famous fathers on 19 June (not that this is on their Father’s Day), picking the best and worst. No surprise then, that Homer Simpson is included on the list. I don’t mind the Simpsons, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. Helen Brown, the author of the article, summarises how I feel about the show and Homer quite well – often silly, not laugh-out-loud enough and just a tad repetitive: “Lazy, gluttonous and stupid, the cartoon character created by Matt Groening in the late Eighties is described by Dan Castellaneta (who voices him) as “a dog trapped in a man’s body”. But this all American everyman’s every misdeed is redeemed by his chest-bursting, tail-wagging love for his family. D’oh! D’awwwww . . . Although he sometimes forgets his youngest daughter, Maggie, exists, her first word was still “Daddy”.” Hmmm.
Anyway – it is 8am and I need to re-heat the tea I brewed for El earlier, and go and look for the weekend papers again. Unluckily for me, they get chucked at the end of our very long, very windy, driveway and were nowhere to be found over an hour ago. Brrrrr. Maybe the papers are usually delivered by a Dad, who decided to be spoiled with tea in bed before venturing out to deliver the Sunday papers. Forgivable!
So, to my Elliott: Thank you for sharing the parenting journey with me. You do it very well and you are my rock. I hope our boys will one day resemble your approach to the task of fathering - including listening, encouraging, challenging, and knowing when to say “No!”.
I love you very, very much.