There has never been a superpower that trumps dadness. Guys shaped like dirigibles can leap over buildings in a single bound if their toddler is in danger on the other side. Dads can arrest gravity and stop time and catch left-handed. Dads can beat up regular guys no sweat. Only another dad is a worthy adversary. Of course the reason for this Dadness power is that dad knows he’ll never hear the end of it from his wife if he comes home with a busted kid.
See, its says there on it, “Embarrassing Dad at Electronic Music Festival.” That’s crazy tawk.
I see an embarrassing son in the video. He’s too sheepish to get down wif his bad self, like dad is. He refuses to knock his bony knees around and get down wif the funk, y’all, ugh!
The little turd is just looking off into the middle distance thinking about Minecraft or something. He’s never going to be a fly guy like his old man. He won’t even wear his auto-darkening bifocals with the obese receptionist lanyard goodness.
I’ll give him a pass on the Tom Selleck starter kit his dad’s got going. Hormones have their own schedule, and can’t be bargained with, or reasoned with, and they absolutely won’t stop until, well, you need Viagra. But you gotta make the most of what you’ve got. Would it kill you to pull your black socks at least halfway up to your knees?
There can be no mightier man than the Dad Man.
See, Dad Man starts out big. He’s ten feet tall with arms like derricks and legs like tree trunks. He picks you up like a rag doll and throws you up in the air like a satellite. His voice booms like dragons arguing in a cave. His beard is like pavement. You’re down there on the floor, and he’s up there in the heavens. He has pockets full of quarters. He is the mightiest man you know.
Then there’s this guy. He’s Dad Man squared.
(Thanks to reader Jonathan Frost-Johnson for sending that one along, via The Silicon Graybeard)
Kids just want dad to read them a story and get them a glass of water.Is that good enough for a dad? Hell no. Every demand on dad’s attention, no matter how trivial, must be met by an insane outlay of time, effort, and money until you achieve some bizarre jumbotron-wedding-proposal-grade reaction from your target audience.
Your wife told you to sneak a quarter under the kid’s pillow, so you of course spent eight hundred dollars and expended two hundred man-hours to do it. She can’t help but notice that the kid still just ended up with some change, and the towel bar she’s been asking you to hang in the bathroom is still in the package, four years after you moved into your house.
Towels dry faster when they’re on the floor, anyway.