Happy Father’s Day to the man (Mr. Aunt Becky) I didn’t know I could hope to marry. Sure, you dragged me, kicking and screaming to the alter by my hair, but you know now how lovingly I look at you as I grab your hand, shove your wedding ring in your face and say, “You see THIS RING? It means I OWN YOU.” See, it’s because I love you so very much that I perform such acts of idiocy.
You’re a good guy, The Daver, you always are. No matter how many orphans (or cute cuddly kittens) I rescue from burning buildings (current tally: 0. But I have faith that I’ll do some rescuing soon), you will always be my better half. I can’t top you on that one, even if I can possibly beat your ass. You wouldn’t hurt a PREGNANT LADY would you, Daver? I didn’t think so.
You told me this morning that Ben was going to be a great dad, as he played with his doll Seth the same way you were playing with Alex. And you’re right, Ben will be a great dad. He learned it all from you. Those boys are fortunate to have you, and maybe they won’t always recognize it or think you’re especially “cool” but in their hearts they always will. They’ll always know that the lasting damage was caused by seeing their mother breastfeed, not by you spraying them with the hose.
I love you, and I’m happy to have you in my life. Even if you never change the toilet paper roll. Or manage to place your laundry IN the basket (It PUTS THE LAUNDRY IN THE BASKET). Or notice when I get my hairs did. Because maybe *I* won’t notice when I dump 5 gallons of bleach onto YOUR CLOTHES.
I’m just sayin’.
So, Happy Father’s day to all of you dudes. Your wives (and Aunt Becky, in a purely platonic way) love you.