Best Dad is Best

It isn’t often that you get a glimpse at the kind of father your partner is going to be before you’re even married. I suppose that’s one of the fringe benefits of being a single parent first. I’ll never be able to put to words in any satisfying manner how awed I am by the mister’s courage, and his patience, and the gentle and careful way in which he became a part of Kid A’s life. He’s the only father A has ever known, and he’s the one I would have picked if I’d been doing the picking.

I’ll save most of the mushy stuff for our anniversary post in August, but I’ll say this now: I’m so, so grateful and lucky and happy that my boys have this man as their father. This man, who does the dishes because Mama cooks, after all, and an equal distribution of labor is how this whole thing is supposed to work. This parenting thing, we’re in it together. We share the load. He’s the dad who does the laundry and vacuums and takes sick days, too, when they’re not well and cries in front of them (rarely, but with no shame when he does) and isn’t afraid to tell them, as often as they’ll tolerate hearing it and sometimes more, that he loves them. That he will always love them, no matter who they are or what they want to become. 

I stumbled across a quote while pulling together a book for my parents that was something along the lines of, “small boys become big men through the influence of big men who care about small boys.” The mister isn’t perfect, he’s human, but he’s present for his sons, our sons, he is real and caring and setting all the right kinds of examples for how they should treat each other, treat women, engage the world.

Happy Father’s Day to my mister, the only man for me, the best dad my wees could ever ask for.