For Father’s day, I’d like to celebrate the two fathers I know and love best: the one who co-made me, and the one who I helped to make.
Here’s my dad the day I was born.
This man, as you can see, takes the fatherhood gig very seriously. And yet he can still chill out with the best of ’em.
I love his combination of seriousness and irreverence.
And then there’s this guy.
(the one on the left)
He impresses me on a regular basis with his ability to both meet his own needs and put in some serious dad time. I mean seriously, notice here how he’s totally getting into the New Yorker, has strategically placed candy on his belly for easy access and is still “actively parenting.” Since I’m descended from a long line of people who very naturally (and sometimes obsessively) focus on other people before themselves, this has been a revelation.
Also, when he’s doing projects around the house, he thinks to do cool things with J like this
And I never worry when he does that kind of thing, because he has a much better natural sense of danger and safety than I do. For whatever reason, ever since J was born, I just assume that he’ll be fine. Even when he’s, say, playing with a *slightly* rusty cheese grater or when a huge, erratic dog is lumbering towards him on the beach. Thankfully, I’ve got this guy around.
Thank you, you two fathers I love. My life is better because of each of you.