‘Fun uncle’: Dads deserve this day
It’s the third Sunday in June, so Happy Uncle’s Day!
Oh, wait a minute. There’s no such thing as Uncle’s Day. This is Father’s Day. But, but, but ... You see, it’s just that I’m a fantastic uncle. At least that’s what my nieces and nephews seem to think, although their parents might disagree.
The problem is I’m a total pushover. Anything the kids ask for, I might give them.
My wife — a magnificent aunt, and there should be a day for them, too — regularly regales family members with tales of my spectacular failings as a substitute parent.
For instance, she tells with malicious delight about the time one of my nieces asked me if she could eat some sugar. Just plain sugar, mind you, not even baked into cookies or something. I said, “Yeah, I suppose you could have a little. Where is it?”
The 4-year-old pointed to a bag on top of a kitchen shelf sevenfeet up. Most other adults might have considered where the bag was and maybe figured it was put far out of reach for a reason. I climbed on top of a chair, brought the bag down, and let the 4-yearold reach into it with her hand. While my wife rolls her eyes, and shakes her head ruefully, I defend myself by saying, “Yeah, but I put the bag back on the shelf before she could grab a second handful.”
Another time, we were taking care of two nieces and went for a ride to get some ice cream. We got our cones and drove back toward home while eating them. When mine was gone, I said to the girls, “You want to go back and get another cone?”
I don’t suppose I need to tell you the answer, or that we actually did turn around and go back for more, or that my wife rolled her eyes and shook her head ruefully.
I can’t help it. My nieces and nephews treat me like one of their friends, not some sort of authority figure to be feared. I take that as a compliment.
My oldest nephew, Michael, once addressed a greeting card to my wife and me in the following manner: D. A. Donna & F. U. Jim.
Everybody knew that “D. A.” stood for Darling Aunt. My wife had coached the kids to call her Darling Aunt Donna for years. The “F. U.” was a puzzler, and because Michael is ever nice and always polite it surely wasn’t the obvious.
Michael cleared it up. “Fun Uncle!” he said. Ever since then, I’ve signed every birthday card, Christmas present, etc., “F. U. Jim” — proudly.
But I’d be a hideous father. Those guys take responsibility, work hard, and don’t give in to every demand, even when they might love to give their children something they’ve asked for. They play the long game, whereas I’m just a guy who can enjoy kids and then go home when I’m tired. Dads’ hearts are guaranteed to be broken someday when they have to say, “No,” and then see tears, or even hear, “I hate you!”
That’s why there’s a Father’s Day. And rightly so.
Fathers work hard and don’t give in to every demand. They play the long game, whereas I’m just a guy who can enjoy kids and then go home when I’m tired.