Forget Father’s Day—Every Day Is Toddler’s Day

My daughter is 19-months-old. When I fully embraced my responsibilities, when I accidentally touched the most vile bodily fluids with my bare hands, when I allowed the scents and stains to envelope my soul, when sleep became a mini-vacation, I knew I had finally arrived at fatherhood. I can only imagine the things I’ll know by the time she’s 895-months-old.

I’ve spent the last 19 months anticipating one thing: Father’s Day.

Father’s Day 2015 was mediocre. But what could I expect from a 7-month-old? Now that I’m dealing with a mobile and somewhat coherent mini-human, I want payback. I need her to muster up all the love and creative energy she has in order to deliver a gift that says: “Daddy, I get you. I understand the sacrifices you’ve made. I love you so much, and I’ll do my best to make life as easy on you as possible. I’ll pay for a babysitter.”

Just kidding. Every day is Toddler’s Day, and Father’s Day will be the same.