Fun Dad Vs. Task Master Mom: A Letter

Fun Dad Vs. Task Master Mom: A Letter

Dear Fun Dad,

You, my dear husband, have been increasing my blood pressure lately.

You designed and fashioned from the deep well hidden within your mind a play set replete with knotted, climbing ropes. As if this was not entertaining enough, you felt led to run a zip line over the raging creek behind our cabin sure to be safe for our two year old.

Contrastingly, I require said toddler to drink cod liver oil, sans flavoring, with his breakfast daily.

You found two snakes in the greenhouse and instantly wrapped them around the children’s arms.


Upon completion of such an enterprising activity, I marched them straight to the bath to scrub off the stinky snake slime.

You, Instigator of Adventure, returned from work with bows and arrows for our kids; whereas my homecoming boasted books for them to peruse during their daily obligated 30 minutes of reading.

Rounding the corner from the coop afforded me a glimpse of child #1 driving off into the morning mist on the four wheeler with #2, #3, and 4 giggling widely in the passenger seat.

I, on the other hand, require five point harnesses when driving on gravel in the middle of nowhere.

The last straw fell the other day when I sunscreened, hatted, and life jacketed our little ones for a leisurely day on the long lake in the canyon. You found it prudent to set the boat at full speed and then proceed to leave the steering wheel in the control of our eight year old. As you sauntered over to sit in the passenger seat, a vivid picture erupted in my brain of our family having a very forceful meeting with the canyon wall.


At least we would have met Jesus as a family, I guess.

I have recounted these exploits to make one point clear to you:

I am OK with it. All of them.

Do I desire for our children to make nice with snakes? Not necessarily. However, I would rather they play with the slithering reptile than run from it.

In addition, do I want to die by smashing headlong into hard rock? It does not sound to me the ideal way to pass from this life. Nevertheless, the confidence I witnessed building in our daughter as she sat captain at the wheel was priceless.

In all your funness, I see you studying our children.

You see deep into the soul of our introverted daughter as she often slips away to her special spot. To honor her and who God has created her to be, you embellished her walkway with an arch speaking to her heart that God made her perfectly just the way she is.


In some ways, I feel as if I spend my days laying bedrock for you to drive up the lane and succeed with our children. A smile spreads across my face as the kids pile out the door to meet you as soon as they hear the rumbling diesel. They love you so. You are their hero, the fun dad. It warms my heart, simultaneously increasing its beats per minute, observing you construct experiences that sprout wings on our children.

I watch you lay solid foundations brick by brick in your relationships with each of them in the way you make them laugh at the breakfast table because of your unique hat choice.


You listen to them, honor them with your words and affection all the while forgoing many popular male entertainments that currently pull dads away from their sweet ankle biters.

Thanks for investing your time in the someones who matter rather than the somethings that don’t.

We make a good team, you and I.  I scream while birthing them, you create screams in our kids while barreling down the gravel pit hills in the four wheeler.  I cover the basics, you provide embellishment. If you were absent, our children would be much more cautious, hesitant. With each pound of your hammer on a new risky emprise these characteristics are diminished in them, and in me for that matter.

So, thanks for being crazy. Our family needs it. We need you.

Oh, and my blood pressure has always been a little too low anyway.


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