A Father’s Day in the USA- a picnic and a card from preschool

Oh, he’s such a good Dad! – I heard in the clothing store for children, after Dean chose dresses and leggings (of course from the sale section). “Oh, he’s changing diapers? My husband never did that,” I heard from another saleswoman in a shopping center, much older, so she raised children in the pre- millenial era, but it was a nice compliment.

On Sunday, we will celebrate Father’s Day in the USA. It always falls on the third Sunday in June. We are planning on attending a Polish Summer Picnic (the fact that it’s the same date is probably a coincidence).

Dean is a great dad, the one who gets up in the night to calm crying Maya, checks Rose’s fever for the whole night when she is sick, and in the morning cooks the porridge for all of us. Just like my father and my grandfather (my mother’s father), he is involved in running the house and raising the kids. After work and after the bus from San Franciso, although he would like to rest for a moment (he used to lament about how his father was took a 20-minute naps after work), he always helps with dinner, bathes the girls and puts them to bed with me. Everyday, in the morning he drops Rose off at preschool, then runs to the bus for work.

He is not the youngest dad in the park, sometimes he looks too much at the phone, but he is always willing to take on family tasks. He introduces girls to American culture: the world of books by Dr. Seuss, bacon flavored cupcakes, American baseball and football and sun protection (with a hat and sunscreen).

We are planning a short trip to Zakopane in July, just the two of us. I think Dean is quite happy about it, but I also feel that he already misses the girls, and worries about them. Taking them with us would be just as fun.

Fathers whom I see in the park, in gyms and classes are rather calm, coping well with children (within a week they are in a very significant minority). They push carts, or carry children in baby carriers, more often just drive them in the car. Dressed in sporty clothes, they patiently give commands to children and praise their new skills, handle fruit pouches and (organic!) snacks. Yet, a couple of times I saw lonely dads with their kids at McDonalds, which is a forbidden venue for Berkeley Moms (broccoli, broccoli and more brocolli).

The story of the beginnings of the Father’s Day in the USA is such: a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd, after listening to a sermon on Mother’s Day in June 1910 in Washington state, felt that fathers should be praised as well. She was raised by a single father, a veteran of the Civil War. Another version talks about a woman, Grace Golden Clayton living in West Virginia in 1908 who wanted to establish Father’s Day to honor men killed in a local massive mine explosion.

I have the impression that this year Father’s Day is not celebrated very much. Maybe because of daily reports on the separation of illegal immigrant families. On television, in newspapers, on the instagam, at stores, you will not avoid present guides, but there is not big commercial frenzy.

Dean got a postcard from Walgreens (you’ve got this “great dad” thing down) and a card and a gift made by Róża in preschool.

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