Father's Day

This morning, fathers all over America woke up to their favorite breakfast and an array of hand-painted coffee mugs, construction paper cards, ties, and golf balls. As a child, your teacher or Sunday school teacher sets up activities to make pencil holders and those delightful construction paper cards a week in advance... and I'm beginning to see why.

Yesterday (the day before, I know... Miss Responsibility), I embarked on a journey to find my dear old dad a father's day card, as I was fresh out of construction paper. Now, if you know my dad and/or me, you know that we are not the sappy type...

None of this:

Dad, on this day, please know...

You are the reason I breathe...

You have set the standard impossibly high for any man I meet...

You are the perfect specimen of man...

You are a gift from the Heavens...

Now, while all of this might be good and true of my father, it's just not us. Trust me, my dad doesn't need to be told he's wonderful. :)

The most disappointing thing about the card search, though, was the "funny" card section. Again, if you know me or my dad, you might suspect that when standing in front of the card selection, I go straight to the "Father's Day- Funny" rack. Unfortunately, mine and Hallmark's senses of humor seem to have come to an impasse.

Sorry, Hallmark, my dad isn't a grill master and he doesn't guzzle a case of beer every night in front of the television. He doesn't belch or make fart jokes, and he doesn't "adjust" himself Al Bundy-style.

Captain Fun is no prude, but I'm beginning to wonder... is my dad more refined than the average American dad? I hope not. I hope most people looked at those cards and wondered the same thing: who are these people?!

My dad's funny card needs to be about his poor sense of direction... that the one thing he can cook if deserted is chocolate oatmeal cookies... his inability to sit still, as he would rather take a VCR apart to see how it works then sit poolside with me and Mom... or even his graying hair.

So next year, I'm thinking of reverting to my childhood and whipping out a construction paper card for my apparently uber-classy father.