My dad probably never thought that the universe would toss him three daughters. A house full of girls. Pink, dresses, skirts, Barbie and nobody ever asked for a racetrack for Christmas. I’m sure putting together Barbie’s Townhouse and carefully arranging those New Kids on the Block dolls under the tree earns him a place in Heaven. Nintendo and Sega had to be the only thing that kept him even a little sane. We chose girl scouts, choir, and the most girly instrument in band kingdom, the flute. None of us had much interest in sports growing up so he had literally no one to pass his love of basketball. That poor guy is in an estrogen storm it’s really no surprise that he only answers his phone 35% of the time. Also not surprising that one of his favorite pastimes when we were kids was tying the sleeves and feet of our pajamas and then having a beer while we were incapacitated and screamed for our mom to rescue us.
Having a dad who, depending upon who you ask, lost the son/daughter lottery three times it’s hard to find moments when you know he’s really proud. However, I think I’ve figured out what might actually be a proud moment for my dad. Not the day the grandkids were born (although there are finally some boys). Not the day any of us graduated from anything. Not the time we stopped calling him asking dumb questions about a sound our cars were making. Nope none of those. Those moments are far too pedestrian. Everyone has those moments. I’m convinced the proudest day of my dad’s life (with the exception of the day of my birth) was October 6, 2014.
Why? This happened.
Yes, that is my dad and his three daughters at a football game. Yes I know he doesn’t look thrilled. He doesn’t look thrilled in any pictures that I own. We took this picture with just the three of us and he got all ‘how you gonna take a picture without me so this happened.
Like I said we had no interest in sports but we all had interest in boys who had interest in sports. By the transitive property or whatever we all learned and grew to love football. My dad has been a Seattle sports fan (are we here for the Sounders or nah) for as long as I can remember so we jumped on his bandwagon. I should mention at this point this was during the Hasselbeck, Whitehurst, That guy whose name is also a brand of applesauce I cannot remember, years. If you follow the Seahawks you know that this is when losing was a habit and other Seahawk fans outside Seattle was like seeing a leprechaun riding a unicorn. I assume we eventually proved ourselves to be real 12s because he bought us jerseys and I guess we leveled up when he got us tickets for the Seahawks at Washington game. It was amazing having the opportunity to share our first professional game with our dad. It had to make all the tea parties and My Little Ponies worth it for that moment where one of us weren’t ready to fling ourselves into traffic.
Do most guys with three daughters luck up and get this opportunity?
Probably not. Other dads may get one or two but all three? Nah. That’s special. He’s special and loved more than he’ll ever know. Thanks for weathering the estrogen storm.
Love you, Daddy.
P.S. Which game are we going to this season? May I suggest Maryland?
P.P.S. GO HAWKS! You had to know that was coming.