If you are a Dad blogger, you probably
haven’t failed to notice there are quite a few of us.
There are so many of us that the Year
of the Dad has arrived. Supposedly. I hear tell that we are leaving the workforce.
We are staying home to raise our kids; by choice. Gone are the days when weary Dads returned
home from work, patted their kid on the head and buried their heads in the
newspaper, looking up only long enough to maybe admire a Lego creation. We are now taking active roles in raising our
kids. Supposedly.
I keep hammering you with “supposedly”
because two recent expeditions out with my triplets suggest a different narrative.
The first was a Gymboree class that,
while pretty evenly populated, was still mostly Mom dominated as far as caring
and playing went. Dads are there,
sure. Some are even engaging with their
kids. But you know who I talk to because
they are holding the hand of the child behind mine? Moms. The Dads are there, for sure, and they are actively listening to their kids and interacting with them. But its mostly from a distance. They are rarely down on the mat doing the dirty work of play.
The second was a birthday at
Milestones in Music. Here, there were
nearly as many Moms as Dads; pretty typical stuff for a child’s party.
But you would never know this from
looking at the “play floor.” The only
people on the floor interacting with the kids were … the Moms. And me.
The Dads were largely grouped along
the wall and in the lobby. Socializing. One other Dad ventured onto the play floor, but otherwise I saw there without any fellow testosterone to keep me company.
So, I think we can safely say the Day of Dad hasn't yet ascended. But come on Dads, get down on the floor; there is playing to be done.
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