Top 5 Things That Make You a Real Dad

Dad Letters Ironman, since today is Father’s Day and I’m always harassing you on my blog, I’ve decided to go easy on you in this post. Yeah, right. I’ve decided to list the top 5 things that make you a real dad.

5. The Bathroom. I’m pretty sure I speak for all women in asking what is it you dads do in the bathroom for all of that time? Gone are the days of newspapers and print magazines, but  now there’s Facebook, Internet surfing, maybe Zillow…and then what? I’m smart enough to realize this room is your sanctuary. Safe from the yapping, the fussing and oh yeah, then there are the kids.

4. Consumer reviews. Kids need a stroller. Or five. Five strollers. I once thought a stroller was a stroller. But we have walking strollers, running strollers and errand strollers. And dads love to purchase modes of transport. Our fab five is a direct result of an internet dad shopper who might buy a kidney on Amazon if the consumer reviews warranted it. Only of course, if the black market wouldn’t price match it.

3. Grass obsession. Not that kind of grass. Real grass. Grass that is mostly green, but has mystery brown patches, which will actually keep Ironman up at night. If I added up all of the time spent simply staring at the emerald rectangle, it might equal bathroom time. I said might.

2. Getting there. We’ll get there. It may take twice as long and be twice as loud, but we will get there. We will stop at all rest stops and everyone will need to stop again moments after departure. Deal with it.

1. Going for broke. Iroman could be rich. I’m not talking Wolf of Wall Street wealthy, but he could have a far bigger house, a fancy pants car and more bikes if it weren’t for us. I saw a Baby on Board sign in the back window of a mini van the other day. Show me that sign in a BMW and I’ll be impressed. Along with the added expense of the Littles, Ironman took on the role of sole provider to give us the greatest gift. Time. Thank you for always putting our family first, Ironman. It’s what makes you a real dad.


Bumblebees Don’t Talk

Ironman’s job has some perks. And I don’t mean free company pens or jump drives (though we have plenty of both, smothered in corporate logos). I mean perks. And for the first time, I got a sky box seat to experience what he does all of the time. I had the honor of being his plus one at a work event this week. This particular red-carpet like event (there was a real red carpet at the entrance), was a private party at Universal Studios. And when I say private, I mean they closed down the entire park for us.

Universal Ball

Well, not just Ironman and I, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to lie, it was pretty awesome receiving dirty looks from all of the day patrons, exiting the park early. As we walked by, their eyes narrowed on our company badges, dangling in the evening breeze, alerting them to our VIP entry. Ironman’s techie colleagues roamed the empty New York streets along side us, stopping by multiple food stations, drink stands and movie sound stages. Then we carefully selected our first dessert from an array of Food Network worthy cheesecakes, cannolis and cookies.

Universal Party Dessert Bar

After tucking away plentiful amounts of sugar, we decided to see what rides were at our disposal. We decided against the roller coaster as, well, did I mention the copious amounts of food consumed? Ironman’s eyes lit up like a school boy when we rounded the corner to a little ride you may have heard of, about aliens who change into everyday machinery. The almighty Transformers. Outside of the ride, one of these metal engine revers was greeting fans. An ominous voice boomed over the onlookers as he struck his fiercest pose. Next up, a bright yellow bot donned the stage, clinking his metal shoes about, when I leaned over to Ironman’s ear and whispered “why isn’t he talking like the others did?”


Ironman looked at me and instantaneously transformed into his teenage self as he spoke (complete with rolling of the eyes) and responded “Bumblebee doesn’t talk, baby”. This was said by a 40-year-old man. At his corporate event. He laughed about it only seconds later, after he realized the serious tone he used in his Transformers for Dummies response. I will always remember this event. I got schooled on the speaking practices (or non-speaking in this case) of a chunk of imaginary metal. But I had a great time. I will never experience a theme park in this celebrity status way again. And I can assure you, if I ever encounter a yellow man-car, I will never question why he doesn’t talk.