Why being a Dad Kicks Ass

A friend once told me being a Dad was one of the greatest things in the world.

He said that he couldn’t really explain it. He tried and we talked about it for awhile. At the end of it, my response was “Well, that’s good for you.” I could tell that he didn’t think I understood. As I was a bit younger and a hell of a lot more cocky, I thought no problem man, I get it, you like being a Dad. He talked about how his daughters would run to the door for him when he got home and hug him. Secretly I thought, hmm, my dog does that. That’s pretty good I suppose.

Now I realize that the truth is that you can never fully explain the greatness that being a father is to someone who hasn’t been through it. You just can’t explain the all encompassing emotion that hits you no matter where you are at. Even at work, all I have to do is look at my daughter’s picture and I feel like a freaking stud. Yes, I have made that and she is greatness.

But how to explain it to someone? How do you convey the true greatness of fatherhood? As a perceptive dude who feels like he can communicate with many dudes on many dude levels, I think that I have found a way. It’s gonna be simple. Being a dad is great because:

When my daughter watches football with me and sees me yell at the screen, she yells “touchdown” and throws her hands in the air. I know that she will grow up watching every game with me and loving every team that I love. As no one else in the house has the passion for sports that I do, this kicks major ass. So basically, I have created my own bleacher section of rednecks who yell “You gotta make that play!”

4 or 5 times during dinner my daughter will grab her glass and smile up at me. I say “cheers” and then we toast. She laughs, I laugh. Dinner with a child seems much more refined when you toast the dog several times in 30 minutes.

When we brush our teeth at night and I take off my shirt, my daughter flexes her muscles and growls. I then flex my muscles and growls. We spend the next 10 minutes doing this.

A friend taught my daughter how to do a fist bump. We do this constantly.

When my son was screaming last night. I said, “Let me see your war face.” Every boy needs a war face and I am happy with his. It terrifies me.

My daughter was sitting in my lap yesterday and farted. She started to laugh. It was freaking hilarious. I took the opportunity to show her the pull Daddy’s finger game. I am nothing if not a teacher first.

My son’s farts make my daughter’s sound like a flute. Seriously, that boy has some volume. He sounds like a Tuba through a megaphone.

I shoot my finger at my daughter’s feet and say “Dance!” She does and then does the same to me. We could do this for hours.

My daughter took a header off the footstool. I thought we were in store for a screaming fit. She got up and laughed. It’s good to see that she is in fact Little Hoss.

My son had to get a biopsy and some of his skin was peeled off of him like an orange. He barely cried. The Hoss gene runs deep.

My daughter tries to ride the dog. He out weighs her by a good 30 pounds but she keeps on trying to live the dream.

When my daughter gets pissed she scowls and it looks like mine. Together we could intimidate the Pope.

My daughter was trying to teach my 6 week old son how to high five.

No one will ever rock out to White Zombie except for my daughter. And when she does it, she goes all out. Head banging, mosh pit with the cats, the whole 9 yards.

My son has monkey toes but has promised to only use them for good.

My daughter will cause havoc when I get in trouble to distract Hossmom from my actions.

My daughter likes to play video games with me. We go online and dominate.

Yesterday my daughter wanted to wear her Halloween costume again, all day. We let her.

When salesmen call the house, I give the phone to my daughter and she says “poop” over and over again.

I know that my son and daughter will never be communist pigs.

I have a plan that when my daughter is 13 and having a slumber party, I’m going to walk out in my worst pair of tight underwear and belch constantly as I go drink milk from the fridge. She understands that this is only pay back for the countless hours of sleep that she took from me.

My daughter loves to sweep. Thank you Jesus, I will never do this chore again.

My daughter has this uncanny ability to find the remote no matter where it is hidden. I will never have to look for it again for as long as I live.

My children do not like Barney and I make a sacrifice of goats to the gods for this gracious gift.

Next week we are going to give a shot at finger painting. I’m going to let Little Hoss attempt to paint her little brother to see what sort of abstract Picasso we can get. Then I’m going to let Bubba Hoss roll around on a canvas for about an hour. We will then sell this human art for millions.

Chicks dig guys that are good fathers, especially to little 2 year old girls. I’m not saying that I am looking, but it’s good to know that I can still get the panties to drop.

My daughter grabs crayons and tries to color in my tattoo. I like her version of it better than mine.

My son gets more boob action than I do at the moment.

I like it when I do my daughters hair and dress her. We look like we just stepped off a life boat after 2 months in the Pacific. I think it’s funny.

I hope that I have done an adequate job of telling you why it so great to be a Dad and why I love it so much. In a nutshell, you have a mini you that you can actually have fun with. There are no inhibitions or embarrassments. It’s like you get to do all the fun stuff that you can’t do as an adult anymore, just with minions that you can send out into the world to spite people.

Although maybe I’ll do some finger painting by myself next week

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