|a boy and his grandpa|
yesterday i wrote about how lucky i got with my husband. i do think that luck has so much to do with it, but i also have to give myself a teeny tiny bit of credit here, because i knew very early on—somehow, somewhere, deep in my gut—that Michael would be a good dad.
and my dad-standards were sky high, having been raised by the best dad in the world. no, it’s true. i did a survey, i conducted research, i compared data. my dad is, indeed, hands down, the best. there are a lot of runners up, of course, but he maintains the 'best' title to this day.
when i was in PA last weekend, Matty was having some trouble sleeping in the Pack ‘n’ Play (his room at home has no windows and is thus very dark; the guest room at Grammie and Grandpa’s has two windows and rather translucent shades) and at the end of Saturday i was feeling pretty pooped. i’d wanted to go in the hot tub—mostly to soak some work-induced tension out of my shoulders—but when my dad asked me, after dinner (and after Matty had cried himself to sleep upstairs), if i still wanted to go in, i said, “nah. too tired.”
five minutes later my mom (who’d been in the kitchen) asked me the same thing. when i gave her the same answer she said, “what? are you sure? go in the hot tub!” and with that she twisted my arm. i crept upstairs, tip-toed into the guest bathroom, quietly pulled on my bathing suit and held my breath as i headed back down, silently praying for Matty not to hear me.
i spent the next forty-five minutes—maybe it was a full hour—sitting in the hot tub across from my dad, talking about everything from pensions and 529 plans and living wills to favorite memories of my grandma (his mom) and what sports Matthew should play when he grows up.
it had been a long time since we’d done that, just the two of us. back in the day, our after-dinner conversations were epic and legendary. sometimes we were inside at the dinner table, long after the dishes had been cleared; sometimes we were outside by the pool, citronella candles lighting our way. we’ve been known to kill two bottles of wine on a Friday night, yammering away about the most random array of subjects.
some of my most cherished memories, i can assure you.
i can also assure you that i don’t know what i’d do without my dad. i can’t even think about it. he’s been a trusted advisor, an unfailing cheerleader, something close to an antagonistic big brother, a great listener, a corny joke-teller (i can never stop myself from laughing), a source of reassurance and a great person to visit Yankee Stadium with.
in other words: one of my best friends.
so on top of the trillion other things i have to thank my dad for this Father’s Day, i will also thank him for instilling in me crazy-high dad-standards. because of him, i knew the qualities to look for in the man who would become the father of my children.
as a result, my dad’s grandson has an awesome dad and the best grandpa in the world.
love you, daddy!