Dear Jackrabbit,
Happy Father’s Day.
There are any number of topics I could choose from on this, our first Father’s Day. I was thinking of writing about my dad. A quite worthy subject, but there will be time enough. I considered writing about myself–another quite worthy subject I’m sure you’ll agree. But again, time enough.
Instead, I’m writing about you.
Why?
Because you’re the reason I’m a dad.
Oh, well, yes… you’re mother was there, of course. Hats off to her, you know.
Q: What’s the difference between a high-hit baseball and a maggot’s father?
A: One’s a pop fly. The other’s a fly pop.
The point I’m trying to make is that I wouldn’t be getting a Father’s Day card today were it not for you. A large part of me thinks I’m the one who should be getting you the card. Being your father is a privilege. You’re an amazing kid. It’s going to sound horribly saccharine to say, but with you around… every day is Father’s Day.
When asked what I wanted to do today, I jokingly responded with desires to sleep all day. Well… a good nap wouldn’t be unwelcome, but I think I understand more why on Father’s Day around the country, a lot of dads aren’t napping, but doing stuff with their kids instead.
Because it’s our privilege.
Don’t let it go to your head son. I saw what you did to that diaper yesterday.
Twice.
Maybe what it comes down to is, at the very least, this is your day as much as it may be mine. And there really isn’t much difference between today and every other day other than I have this nice Father’s Day card sitting next to me.
I love you, Jack. Remember that.
All my love,
–Dad
