Nothing can prepare you for the role of “Dad”

I suppose you could read books, watch YouTube videos, or converse with the “lads”

Or you can sit and observe how others act “Dad”

You could try out the latest, new parenting fad

There’s no way to plan, or prepare for the life

Of a dependent small child who takes up your time

And drains you of resources; headspace, money, and energy

To not always guarantee a seamless synergy

More often than not, the best thing to do

Is to dive right on in, that’s all you can do

When the small human is sad

You just try to console

But it only wants mummy

And makes clear that this you know.

When the tiny version of you

Wants to learn and enquire

And you’re exhausted by numerous attempts inspire

When the small one seems to not care for your lessons

But is hell bent on destruction, of chaos and messing

And they appear apathetic to the life that’s ahead

Or they kick and they scream and refuse to do bed

And each day is a mystery, of surprise and of change

And goes on forever, ninety twelve hours a day

And you do all you can to support parent one

To keep house and raise children,

The daughters, the sons.

And socially the question is “Where’s mum?”

Confirming the view of you as “two” to parent one

Yet behind closed doors one and two are the same

And you equally strive at this parenting game

And you equally fail and of course you succeed

But the Dad is a parent, a parent indeed.

And while thanks may not be freely, or frequently given

I’d not be my version of a dad, without your commitment.

The fact that you stood up and raised three as your own

That you work endless hours to maintain a home

That you attempt pass wisdom, to teach and inspire

Though of our short attention spans you surely must tire

Here’s to a pretty sound version of “Dad”

Whose journey continues as a pretty sweet “Grandad”.

Published by RTS

Father, husband, teacher. Occasional eccentric.

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