Give me whatever and make it fast. What? What do you mean? My wife gave me ten minutes of freedom for Father's Day. And I burned through three of those just sprinting over here. We have four children and a fifth one any day now. She's tired in bed so I'm on 24/7 kid duty. I haven't left the house, taken a shower, or gone potty by myself since 2015. My ear hairs are skinny secret babies that whisper to me at night that I may be going insane. So for Father's Day, my loving wife granted me ten fleeting moments of me-time, which I choose to spend buying expensive coffee in a run-down cafe, like I used to do when I was young and single and had all the time in the world. Mom wants to know when you'll be back. Tell the short person I can't hear it for another 5 minutes and 48 seconds! Sometimes I'm glad I can't even get a date.
… And my dad never gave me his approval, which is why I try so hard to be a perfect male specimen. I thought maybe if I ran faster, jumped higher, dated more … my dad would give me the respect as a man that he never gave me as a boy. Do Not Disturb. Did it work? Sort of. Every Father's Day we meet in a bar and arm-wrestle. That's sweet. When I slammed his fist through the table. I'm pretty sure he teared up a little.