something special

To the best dad in the world

Every time I want to talk about the husband on the blog, he’s always like “no need lah, it’s ok, I don’t do that much anyway“, which is completely untrue but I know he’s shy like that and would be happy staying out of the spotlight.

But sometimes there are things that need to be said, and two days after Father’s Day seems as good a time as any to say it.


Happy Father’s Day, babe! I got the kids to help out with this post and in lieu of a crumpled card that we both know will be secretly thrown away when the kids are not looking, we put together a list of all the reasons why you’re the best dad in the world.

You do more than a lot. I don’t even know where to begin with this. You send the kids to school every morning at an hour where humans are not supposed to be awake. You bathe them and feed them and hold them and teach them math and tell them stories and pray for them and make them milo and show up for their events and carry them when they’re too tired to walk.

You show us how to have a good time. Impromptu trips to the water park, crossfit style piggy back rides, special post-bedtime board game nights, Playstation sessions…you make this journey a whole lot of fun. When I look at how much fun the kids are having with you, I feel relieved that I don’t have to try to be fun mom. I can be relax-and-take-a-break mom, which I much prefer to be.

You work really hard, but not so hard that you don’t have time leftover to hang out with us. You’ll take the time to put the kids to bed even when one (or more) of them is being ridiculous and doing nonsense for 2 hours in the room. Even when you’ve got work to catch up on, you’d rather wake up in the middle of the night to finish it up than to miss out on the time spent with them. This means the world to them.

You volunteer for poop duties, especially the really explosive ones where I try to keep a straight face because good moms aren’t supposed to get grossed out by their children’s poop but I’ll fail and involuntarily make a cringey vomit face. You’ll offer to do it and I’ll feel obliged to be all like “it’s ok, I’ve got it” but you’ll insist and I can go “okay sure if you really want to…

Remember that one time where one of the kids had diarrhoea on the floor and I was about to clean it up but I just stood over it for several seconds trying to prepare myself mentally for the impending grossness and you swooped in to save the day. Thanks for that and the other hundreds of meals I got to keep down over the past 9 years.

You can handle 5 babies all at once, no problem. Okay, it does look like one of those durex ads where the dad gets mauled by babies and his expression is one of deep regret, wishing he had the good sense not to accidentally have these babies, one of whom is presently using his spleen as a trampoline. It can’t be fun having babies stuff foreign objects into your nostrils or somersault straight into your face, but you take it and still come back for seconds and I love you for it.

*Bonus from Theo: You share your food, like sandwiches and snacks and cookies and 100 plus and super delicious ice cream.

You tell me not to call you a superdad because these things are what dads do and there’s nothing super about them, but just so you know, everything that you do for us is super.

Also, we really, really like you. :)

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