When I was a kid I remember watching the cheesy sitcoms that might appear throughout any given week on television. Many of the popular ones when I was growing up were centered around a family with children. The Dad would do dad-type things and the Mom would do mom-type things and the kids would do kid-type things. The episodes would generally focus on someone doing something wrong and then learning a lesson in the end. All of these shows ultimately affirmed, quite happily, that families are more important than any problems that might arise between the individual members. At any rate, these shows (in aggregate) tried to standardize what it was to “be a dad” and “be a mom” and “be a kid” for the “typical” family. Just recently I had a “dad” moment that I’m sure all of these shows depicted at some point over their various seasons.
Recently we celebrated our son’s birthday. My wife and I thought about a great many things for gifts and eventually settled on a classic tricycle. What could be more fun peddling your way to happiness in the great outdoors? The tricycle is the precursor to the bicycle and (if our son desires) the unicycle. At any rate, my “dad” moment began when I opened the box the night before in our basement, got out all of the tools, and began to assemble the tricycle with wrenches and nuts and bolts and a hammer and whatever other tools the confusing manual attempted to depict in the instruction manual. I sat — alone in the basement — putting together a brand new toy for our little boy. I screwed everything tightly together, adjusted the seat carefully for his small stature, and placed it lovingly in the living room for him to see upon waking. He received it happily.