The greatest advice I’ve ever received as a father, was from the future godfather of my little girl. He said, “Dude, you’re waaaay too clueless to know better, so I think you’ll do just fine.” This was before the birth of my two ridiculously hilarious twins arrived. And you know, he was right on the money, because long before “Dad,” there was simply me and my wonderful partner in life.
However, implying that the simple life is what I miss, would completely be false.
You see, before those little bundles of joy arrived, I had the obligatory pre-birth crash course in female physiology that wasn’t included in the dad manual. Aside from my wife being a stone cold trooper through endless days of morning sickness and later disenchantment with Nacho Doritos, it was one evening in January 2014 at Home Depot that changed everything. As we strolled past endless aisles of orange looking for bundles of firewood in an unusually cold Baton Rouge winter, my wife stopped, took a deep breath, grabbed her stomach and said, “Ugh…” Perplexed as the ignorant oaf I was, I asked what was wrong? In between labored breaths, she quietly said, “Braxton Hicks.” Now, I being quite overwhelmed at my wife’s current predicament and not knowing who this Braxton or Mr. Hicks was, started to get nervous. On the outside, I was calm and supportive, but on the inside I was completely freaking out. Fortunately, a trip to hospital and understanding the value of staying hydrated to prevent Braxton Hicks made me the husband who followed around my wife for the rest of the pregnancy asking, “You thirsty? How much have you drank today? Let me get you some water!”
Fast forward seven years and life is a blur. Our kids are asking increasingly existential questions. They’re jumping over couches pretending to play Ninja Warrior. Both are becoming quite proficient at slinging absolute zingers of responses that would, in my day, gotten me grounded and possibly spanked. But the one thing that I never anticipated was how much I would love when my kids would call me “Dad” in their own way.
I’m not just Dad, my name is Dadoo.
I’m the luckiest Dadoo in the world.
