It’s weird to celebrate Father’s Day as your day instead of your dad’s day. It has this different texture to it, which is something I honestly don’t like. The focus is on me. And it’s not like I think I’m undeserving to be a father or anything. In my opinion, it’s an easy thing to do. Be a father. All you have to do is have a kid. Tons of men in this country have kids, but not tons of men deserve to be called “Dad”.
Being a dad is a different story. A friend of mind named Zane once told me, maybe a month or two into my fatherhood, that once that little girl reaches up for you and asks for “Dad”, you’ll know what being a dad is really about.
I was probably too tired to really understand his wisdom in that short text message. But all these months later, I certainly can say I know what he meant now.
Father’s Day is now about passing the things my father taught me down to my daughter. Well the good things at least. I have to leave a bunch out. And this particular day is also about honoring how flipping hard I work to be a good dad. Ha!
We started this honorary day with Jess cooking her classic American breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, cinnamon toast, coffee. Delicious. That girl has some talent in the kitchen. Emerson loves cinnamon toast and sausage so she was a happy daughter as well.
Unfortunately, Jess was pretty sick. She had to bow out about half way through her culinary exploration and let dad take over. And he finished strong. Luck of the Father’s Day, I guess.
Not much between that and our Sunday tradition of Mi Cocina. Pigeons, rice and beans, cup of queso, mambo taxis, and quesadillas. Sundays are for Mexican food.
Jess, as I mentioned, was sick. But she stuck it out for me. Dad. And in turn, I told her we should go do her favorite thing. Go to the Dallas Arboretum and Botanical Gardens. The Children’s Garden is something to behold. It has water features galore, and I’ve never seen a kid without a huge smile there. We spent several hours exploring the garden, heat and heat and hot, weathery heat.
Lakewoood Smokehouse. Yum. I love the pizza, the wings, the nachos, the philly cheesesteak, the macaroni and cheese. Basically the menu. It’s amazing. A wonderful treat.
All in all, Father’s Day was a success. I loved it, loved my wife and loved my daughter. What else could I have asked for? Another kid? That gives me a double Father’s Day right…? Nope. As I’ve said before, we’re one-and-done.