During my daily wanderings through Pinterest (yes, I am a junkie), I came across a link to 50 Rules for Dads of Daughters. I knew this would be sappy and mushy-gushy and frankly, I’m not sure why I clicked on it. I’m not a daddy’s girl. I absolutely love my dad and I don’t know what I’d do without him, but I’ve never been the girl attached to her daddy’s leg. I hid behind my mom lest somebody else should ask me if my thumb tasted good (my uncle always asked for a taste).
Most of these “Rules” I can say did not apply to my dad and I. I can shrug and say I don’t see why it really needs to be a rule. A few of them we got, like #1 Love her mom…well, duh? Unless it is an unfortunate situation of divorce or being a widow. I was lucky. I still am lucky.
He did buy me a glove and I played softball for a couple of years, always watched my brother play baseball, and still watch the Cubs like a good fan does.
I never had to ask for a puppy. We always had a dog.
Not only did he dance with me, I took him to the Girl Scout sock hop where he danced with me.
I could go on but that would bore even me. A lot of that list my dad and I didn’t get to do because he traveled for his job, but he called home every night to talk to my brother and I.
So I got to thinking about those things that I had with my dad that were not mentioned. One of the biggest rules of fatherhood as I knew it growing up was left out of that list (not counting reading her a bedtime story and playing spaghetti with her hair after bath time because you don’t know how to comb it properly).
Take her for rides. My dad always took my brother and I for rides. If Dad said “Do you want to go for a ride?” or “Let’s go for a ride,” we knew exactly what he meant. We’d pile into his car and head for a nearby 7-11 or White Hen Pantry, sometimes another convenience store or gas station. On special days my brother and I would get “Slurpees” or fruity slushy drinks full of sugary goodness. On normal days we’d share my dad’s giant Diet Coke, the Big Gulp or whatever the biggest fountain size was. That was his normal sized drink but on rides he shared with us. It was Dad, my brother, me, the pop and the road.
My dad has recently gotten in the habit of taking our dogs to with him to check his lottery tickets in the morning. They stay in the car for the couple of minutes it takes him in the gas station to see if he won anything and then they come home. The dogs love it and he loves showing them off. He’ll go through the McDonald’s drive-thru on the way home to get a Diet Coke and a cup of water. The last he said, the person working the window stopped giving him a straw for the water because he realized it was for the dogs. Once a dad, always a dad.