So my dad is pretty cool. I call him superman on a regular basis. Which he thinks is weird, but deep down he likes it. I have some pretty good stories of dad, and I choose to share them with the world.
- Once upon a time Dad called us all asses. The faithful followers have read about this encounter in the post entitled 'Four letter words.' I was shocked at the time, but it is now a most cherished memory.
- Dad has this thing where he carries all the groceries inside in one trip even when mom has just gone on a spree during a caselot sale. That's hardcore. But he does lots of cool stuff like that, like the time I was sick but I still had to mow all those lawns and he brought the mower all the way over there and mowed the thing for me while I worked the weed hacker.I think this may have been where the Superman nickname originated.
- Since I was teensy, daddy has called me Little Naomi. I have no idea why, and he won't tell me. When I was twelve, I made him promise he would tell me the story behind the name when I got married. He said yes, but it was a promise made under duress, so odds are he won't tell me and I'll just die curious.
- Dad has big hands, and I really liked holding them as a child. But my hands were not big, so dad would hold out his two fingers and I would just hold those. I remember walking across the Harmon's parking lot as a wee bairn thinking that nothing in the world could go wrong as long as I was holding dad's fingers. (Sometimes I still make him hold my hand, and sometimes I still just hold his fingers. I'm eighteen, that's weird, what?)
- TMI moment approaching. Disclaimer disclaimed. Check.
As a junior in High School, I got really sick. Super sick. And I had a doctor's appointment in the wee hours of the next morning scheduled, but I was still up all night puking my guts out. There was very little sleeping involved. So dad, ever faithful, camped out in my room watching NCIS on hulu with me all night while I got up and puked during advertisment breaks. Now. This is a big deal because we were watching tv on the internet and there were some definite buffering problems. Dad is not one to screw around with bad buffering or bad pictures, and my monitor wasn't really high end quality. More even than staying awake with a miserable daughter, the willingness to watch bad quality tv was a sign of love.
- When I totaled the van, dad told me to calm down and go do my homework. My sisters knew, but I didn't, that dad is merciful and loving when you crash his cars. This I did not expect. What, you aren't going to ground me for the forseeable future, lock me in a room and never let me see a road again let alone drive on one, and refuse to claim me as your flesh and blood when the insurance company tells you I caused eight thousand dollars worth of damage to an Emergency Essentials truck? nope. I was blown away with his niceness.
- Dad travels a lot. And he is a nice guy who brings back souvenirs that I actually love and adore. And some of it is random, but still he just chooses stuff I like. Like a new jersey bear, and a coaster tile from New Orleans that I have on my wall, and a keychain from the Thoreau Society that he bought at Walden Freaking pond in Concord Massachusets. (How cool is that? I didn't even know he knew I liked Thoreau!) The most recent insanely cool thing he brought me arrived yesterday from his recent travels in the land of Virginia. What does dad pull from his computer case but a baseball cap with NCIS on it! He actually remembered that I wanted one of those! Also, way to buy gifts with sentimental value. Sure, I have wanted an NCIS hat for a long time, but would it be as cool if it came from someone who didn't pull an all nighter watching that show with me while I puked? Heck, no!
Could he be a better dad? Heck, no!