Frantic Home Cook – Home cooking, Recipes, Healthy, Frugal

Hubby is taking a renewed interest in our daughters’ extracurricular activities.   Which includes registration at a myriad of school events, rec centers and  doctor’s offices.

Hence we have this actual conversation while signing up Daughter Youngest for a recent event.

Registry person: Child’s age?

Husband: She’s 8. (looking at me)

Me: 9…You know her birthday, right?

Husband: Um…(deadly pause)

Me: November 7, 1999

Husband: Well, she’s in 2nd grade.

Me: 3rd.    Do you even know her NAME?!

Now don’t get me wrong.  Hubby is a loving, doting father who challenges them to wrestling matches on the floor, shows them how to fix a leaky gasket and even teaches our little princesses how to burp the alphabet then gives congratulatory knuckles when they succeed.   (Reminder to self:  See if he’s aware of the sex of our children.)  But while he’s tops in digestive games, he’s lacking in knowledge of the details.

From talking with girlfriends, I believe this may be a deficient chromosome in male DNA.    Which is why I’m still the “go to” person in charge of schedules, birthdays, appointments and deadlines.   And why, when I leave for a night out, I leave notes around the kitchen that say “Remember to feed the kids,” because, yes, it’s necessary.  This is the same man who can recite the batting averages of the entire National League.  This is the man who changed Daughter Eldest’s first diaper wearing a surgical mask and rubber gloves yet still managed to gag and run out of the room as soon as I came to help.

But as they grew in to little people, I would come around a corner and notice him pretending to be asleep as giggling girls smothered him with lipstick.   (Once when he let them give him a lovely purple pedicure, he forgot about it until he was swimming at the pool on a business trip…with his boss.)   This is a man who would willingly make himself a fool to encourage a giggle, be the strong arms that catch a leaping fairy princess in a torn tutu and the one who changes from a tough manly man to a real softie whenever he hears a little voice call for “Daddy.”   Thank God for fathers.

Happy Father’s Day, hon!