It’s Father’s Day today. The day when lie-ins are gladly taken and children paste and colour paper to within an inch of their wee lives, striving to out do each other and create the perfect card for their humble Dad. Well, that’s the story in my house anyway.

The morning started off much better than yesterday (http://greatbigjar.wordpress.com/2013/06/15/the-morning-from-hell-cub-camp-meltdowns-other-stories/) as Wee C climbed into his painting attire and made us all a ‘family’ poster. It’s to go on the kitchen door so everyone can see it he says. OK I agree, slightly worried as he has a somewhat dark and thought-provoking painting mind for your average 6-year-old.

The masterpiece is complete and he presents it to me with a huge smile and a ‘didn’t I do well’ grin. Yes, my wee nutter, you did very well. I turn over the paper and see four dark rain clouds. Oh, I say, that’s lovely. Apparently the  clouds represent each of us and the rain is how we talk to each other. I am just glad that we don’t know anyone who analysis childrens paintings for a living – we may get a visit from certain grown ups who may well question his happiness within our lovely unit. At least he drew a sun too. My wee ray of light that he is.

Anyway, back to the Dad’s. Dad’s are amazing creatures of habit. My dad has played golf since I can remember. He worked long, long hours supporting his large family (there was no TV back then so what else was he to do!) and every weekend he got up early and went for a round of golf. I remember an old glass bowl that he kept his extra golf balls in and we were never allowed to touch them. Ever. A bit like that Haribo advert where the kids are sat at a table and if they don’t eat the Haribo in front of them then they get another one (like that’s EVER going to happen). I couldn’t even pass that test, well.. maybe. But if it was Colin the Caterpillar flumps in front of me, now that’s a different matter! It would be sooked into my stomach’s oblivion before you finished the word caterpillar. I would possibly give an actual limb for one of them.

The Dad in our house is a stealth-like ninja, RPG fiend, badminton player extraordinaire, wearer of 80’s rock band t-shirts and all round gentle giant. When he comes home it’s as if the world can carry on its mayhem outside as we all take comfort in the presence of our calm-restorer and ‘get me to the next level on my computer please’ walking comforter.

You may or may not have your Dad still with you, but if he is, give him a flump and tell him all the best ninja’s like these.

5 Comments

  2. Dammitall, I’ve searched through the P.J.Proby disc,the trousers, the flowers(?), saltair inhaler and extra sour jellies and not a flump in sight !

    1. Ah but you don’t need a flump, you are already a ninja – with a magical waistcoat 🙂 p.s Marks and Spencer might be the place to go! 🙂