A Messy Father’s Day

I'm a parent of two kids under the age of two, and it’s tough work. Jon Stewart, host of TV’s “The Daily Show,” has two kids, and he says they are “kicking my (tuckus).”

He recently interviewed Angelina Jolie, and marveled at her plans to have as many as 13 kids someday.

Every dad has those days when you feel a lot older than your actual age. But how can you not love it when you wake up on Father’s Day and your two-year-old comes running up to you with delight saying: “Happy MOTHERRRR’S daaaay!!!!!”

Ah, well, let's face it, moms deserve most of the credit anyway.

Plus, after all those sleepless nights as a young parent, my wife let me sleep in for Father’s Day—until 9 a.m.! No really, trust me, that’s late. I say, “That’s the best present of all,” and she raises her brows, looks at the kids and says, “and the greatest sacrifice of all.”

I sneeze and my daughter Belle says, “God bless you. Can I see your boogers?”

Your Special Day

You know how, when it’s your special day—a birthday or anniversary—a loved one will want to do the little things for you that they know will make you happy?

Well, I’m a bit of a neat freak, so I’m thinking maybe on Father’s Day we can have a day when the house is actually clean. Instead, the kids insist on putting the pizza sauce in the proverbial centrifuge and hitting “mix”:

So the pizza sauce is on the floor and Belle asks, “What’s that nastiness?” She usually answers these “rhetorical” questions herself with statements like, “Oh, that’s blood, Daddy.”

I say, “I think that’s actually the pizza sauce your brother just threw on the floor.”

“No,” she corrects, “it’s blood.”

You know two-year-olds: They’re experts in many fields of science. Take Anatomy. Today Belle asks, “Mommy, did you know Daddy has privates?”

Or perhaps Internal Medicine. The other day, she says to me, “Daddy, did you know Mommy bumped her knee?”

“No,” I say, “what happened?”

“She got something called an 'owie,'" Belle says. "Mommy had a fit."

“A fit?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding. “Yep, a fit. Yep.”

Of course, nobody can be an expert in everything, not even my daughter or Rosie O’Donnell.

For example, Belle’s talking to my brother on the phone and can’t quite keep up with all his wardrobe changes.

“Hi Uncle Jay,” she says, picking up the phone, “What color shirt are you wearing?”

“Blue,” he says.

“OK, bye,” she says, handing the phone back to me. A minute later, she taps me on the shoulder and points to the phone. I hand it back to her.

“Uncle Jay, what color shirt are you wearing?”

“Still blue,” he says. And on it went for about five minutes.

So anyway, I had a great Father’s Day, even if the house is a mess. I'm very blessed to have such a wonderful family. Last weekend, I clean the house for hours and crash on the sofa, exhausted. I say to my wonderful family, “Clean refrigerator, clean floors, clean counters: Isn’t it glorious?”

“Nope,” Belle says, smearing something yellow on the floor. Well, it was fun while it lasted. If the saying is true that “A clean house is God’s house,” then God clearly has one hell of a nanny.

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2007, all rights introverted.