My daddy and I have quite a history. He’s put up with a lot of sh!t from me.
No, literally. As the story goes, when I was around 6 months old he was taking care of me and ran out of diapers, and was holding me in is big old hands and… well, I had to go! (Why I am posting this story on the world wide web is totally beyond me).
At least I was adorable…
Since then, he has continued to put up with quite a lot. From my… rather rough… teenage years to my affinity for bad music, he just sits through it all… Perhaps not without complaint (poor Bruno Mars is the brunt of 90% of the jokes in our household, particularly for “Grenade”, and let’s not even start on Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift), but still.
Though we still butt heads from time to time (as is wont to happen when you combine two stubborn people), I know whenever I need him he’ll be there. He’s my biggest cheerleader and supporter of my newfound interest in running; we exchanged numerous disgustingly-long e-mails over the course of last quarter in an effort to design a training plan for my half-marathon. On one night in particular he arrived at home tired from a day of biking and partying and still stayed up an extra half-hour to write me an epically long response about every minute detail I was obsessing over (what can I say, babbling is genetic).
I know if I need someone to wake up early with me on vacation and go on a run, he’ll be there. I know on days when I feel fat and ugly he’ll be there to tell me I’m crazy and, of course, beautiful (whether or not I believe it). I know when I need to get from point A to point B he’ll lead me the right way… which my mom and I are both a little questionable at.
And, of course, whenever I have a spider in my bathroom or a 49.5 pound suitcase to carry, he’s my man.
For all that he drives me crazy making fun of me for, well, everything, I know I’ve inherited some of my incredible wit (read: penchant for bad jokes) from him. If not simply a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and a thicker skin. And for all the times I’ve had to hide my chocolate chips in my sock drawer to keep him from eating them, I know there have been many times that he’s helped me polish off a batch of cookies or muffins (tough job, but someone’s got to do it). For all that he scares the living daylights out of almost all of my potential suitors (even the ones that measure up to his 6’4″ height), I know he’s also good for keeping away the creepers. And for every annoyance he may have caused me, I know I’ve done at least a million times more.
So thank you, dad, for putting up with crap of various forms for the past 20 years.
Excuse the fact that I look like a zombie… this was a very early-morning train.
And happy fathers day. :)
What has your dad put up with?