Why one mum thinks her husband is a better mother than her.
Dads have an innate ability for idiocy. They can throw further, jump higher and run faster. Mind you, it’s not that hard to throw further, jump higher or run faster than me. Just saying.
Dads have cool ideas for adventures. Adventuring is cool. Dads can do realistic light saber sound effects. They have bachelor degrees in the art of air guitar. They have endless stamina for silly voices and, indeed, an endless ream of silly voices from which to choose.
Dads, and this is a big one, can grow MOUSTACHES. And moustaches? Cool.
I’ve come to the conclusion that good dads may actually be good dads because they think like kids. They have limited attention spans and can flit from one gloriously fun activity to the next without any thought. I might spend lengthy periods meticulously setting up textas and crayons, little super hero masks for sticking on little perfectly cut out people, barn yard sticker sheets for stickering, googly eyes and pipecleaner arms. All to be swiped from the table after just five minutes (sob sob)….Dads! Well dads are at the ready to leap into the next activity as soon as the kids are.
Dads are really good at explaining things. Why do trees have leaves? Why do dogs smell each other's butts? Why don't ducks wear pants? If ducks did wear pants, what colour would they be? All the important questions about every day life. Dads have the answers and the wherewithal to delve into the nitty gritty details.
I've come to realise over time that my husband, who is in my humble opinion a blessing to the gene pool, is not only a great dad, but he's also arguably a better mum than me too! Cool in a crisis. Loving. Tirelessly patient. Willing to wipe rogue boogers away with bare hands if necessary.
You're encroaching on my territory buddy. Step back.
He's unflappable, almost irritatingly so. Nothing phases him. Not the dog vomiting up Joseph's technicolor dreamcoat all over the rug. Not the escalating argument about who "winned" at eating dinner. Not the house being hidden under a fine layer of lasagna. He's the proverbial cucumber. Cool as.
My 3-year-old son recently told me bluntly that his twin sister loved me but that he loved daddy. Right. The gentle explanation about how these two things don't have to be mutually exclusive didn't appear to have the cut through I'd have liked when he responded with "I love daddy the better".