"Daddy, Your Boobs Are Getting Bigger" [and Other Fatherhood Moments]

The Bizzare Joys of Fatherhood

This was quite possibly the single greatest thing my daughter could have ever said to me – I’ll explain why in a moment. It was a fatherhood moment I’ll never forget.
But first, allow me to take a bit of a detour and discuss this gem of a photo
When I first saw this photo on Facebook a few years ago, it was being shared and passed around faster than a virus at the living petri dish that is my kid’s school.
The headline that rode shotgun with that photo was, “I Know a Good Dad When I See One.”
And upon seeing it, I had mixed emotions.
First I thought, “Man, why can’t more parents be cool like that? That guy is awesome!”
Then, “Why don’t I do that shit? Wait, when did I stop being cool?”
And finally, “Who does that ass-clown think he is? He’s just trying to show up the rest of us dad’s out there like me who are too damn tired after working a full day to do anything more than let the television tell the kids their bedtime story, and pray to everything that is holy I don’t lose paper, rock, scissors on tucking the ‘needy’ kid in. She needs all 10 My Little Ponies (Don’t even think about forgetting about Pinky Pie), a glass of fresh water with crushed ice, a heating pad for her knees, and last but certainly not least, she’ll require you to listen to 17 different things she just happens to remember as you’re trying to close the door and lock her down for the night.”
Buuuuut I digress.
The fact of the matter is this photo of the cute kid and his show-off dad did, in fact, ignite something deep inside me. It made me realize that I actually WANT to be my kids’ hero. I want them to enjoy ripping it up and raising a little hell with their old man. I want them to look forward to hanging out with me. I want them to miss me when I’m gone. And yes, I even want to wear silly outfits together … in public. But I would never wear a cape – more on that later.
In order to become my kids’ hero, I knew some changes needed to happen. Just like any superhero accepting their new identity and learning their new powers, I knew there would be a learning curve.
Day 1 of Becoming ‘Superdad’.
I loaded the kids into the little buggy-pod-thingy (technical term alert) attached to the back of my bike and headed to the park to get some bonding in. After I caught my breath from towing those little meatballs damn near 8 blocks, and after the sweat rolling down my back seeking refuge in the crack betwixt my also sweating butt cheeks had mostly dried, I decided to join in the fun.
Within less than three minutes of playing together, I was told by my 4-year old daughter, Lily, who apparently was elected to speak on the behalf of both kids that, “We’re bored… and it sure is sweaty out here”.
No doubt, this was a dig at me.
It was time to move to phase 2 of this father-kid super mission: Ice Cream!
I re-loaded the now hot, irritable, and somehow heavier meatballs back into the buggy and began our trek back home.
Enter: crying, fighting, whining, Superdad threatening “no ice cream”, a short-lived silence, aaaaaaand repeat.
Finally, we made it back home. Time to take the kids out of the buggy and into the van. Easy enough one would think, right? Especially for Superdad.
“I need water!”
“Me too, daddy!”
Think, man, think.
But there were no other options. Any half-full old water bottles in the van were most-likely the temperature of molten lava, and I didn’t see any puddles in the street. Dammit.
So I unlocked the front door and headed into the house to get the water when, as if in slow motion with the Godfather theme song playing in the background, I saw my wife’s trusty rescue dog, Frenchy make a beeline for it, as my well-trained chihuahua, Chico, watched on in disgust from inside the house where I believe I saw him mouth the words, “he gawn” … but I can’t be fully certain about that.
For a split second, I thought, “Meh… he was an okay dog, my wife will probably miss him” (don’t judge).
But then I questioned, “What would Superdad do”?
Random Superdad Tip: Make sure you strap the kids into the van BEFORE chasing a runaway dog.
After 10 minutes of a super lively game of ‘keep away from the super-sweaty-heavily-breathing-and-wheezing guy’, where the dad tries desperately to catch three randomly moving objects in front of laughing neighbors, I finally seemed to get things under control. Now I’ve never tried to herd goats before, but I’d imagine this is kind of what it’s like.
Finally, Frenchy was safely resting in the house inside his crate, or as I like to refer to it in times like these, the sin bin, the kids were strapped in the van, I filled up and handed out some water glasses and put the van in reverse to pull out of the driveway, when I heard a VERY disgusted voice from the backseat, “ummm, there’s no ice in this water.”
After some slick negotiating where I pointed out that there was really no need for “ice”, since we were getting “ice cream”, and a few other solid arguments along those lines, I found myself saying hello to Frenchy as I walked by his crate and into the kitchen to get the ice … crushed, of course.
Okay, ice cream time.
This actually went smoothly, with the exception that my son Declan finished all of his ice cream (that which didn’t find itself on his face, hair, shirt, shorts, socks, shoes, underwear (how?!), carseat, and the seatbelt) before we even made three blocks from the parlor, and had then set his eyes on his sister’s.
And since he’s 2 years old, his reasoning skills are outstanding. Impeccable one might even say. I simply explained the situation and was met with perfect understanding. (Please note, this is sarcasm).
RANDOM QUESTION: Is it just me, or do other parents out there take a quick peek at the clock every 13 seconds, give or take, to see if it’s naptime yet?
Anyhow, after a couple more tantrums, it was finally nap time…which for some damn reason always comes as a surprise to my kids. Every day without exception my kids take naps. And every day, without exception, it’s a HUGE surprise! But I suppose that’s a chestnut to crack on another day.
Shhhhh, the kids were finally asleep. I collapse onto the couch, give the dogs that “shhhhhh, so help me if you wake them up glare,” look around the house and wonder why it appeared as if an F6 tornado violently ripped through our house (when in fact, it was actually 3 different destructive vortexes: 2 kids and a dog), and think to myself, “Meh, I’ll clean it later”.
FAST FORWARD: It was midnight and I heard a loud thump come from my daughter’s room. Now, most men would continue to lay there with their eyes closed playing “parent chicken” to see who would lay there the longest before the guilt kicked in and one of the parents finally gave in (or, so I hear anyhow). But not while Superdad was on duty.
I leapt out of bed in a single bound, ran into my daughter’s room faster than a speeding bullet, kicked open the door, as and my daughter just stared at me for a second with a look of genuine concern on her face.
There I stood, half-naked, breathing heavy, one eye crusted shut, barely awake and mumbling yoda-esque gibberish at her, “big boom, I heard… from your room, it came.”
My daughter looked down on the ground, then back up at me, and said, “Will you pick my dolly up off the ground?”
“Sure little girl, Superdad will save your dolly.”
“Thank you, daddy.”
“All in a day’s work, ma’am.”
I started to leave her room and lock her down for the night yet again, when…
“Oh, daddy, I have to tell you something.”
“Yes, my precious daughter.”
“Your boobies are getting bigger.”
That … was … the exact moment I realized I needed to start capturing and sharing some of these little memories. 

The cliché is true, they really do grow up so fast. That was nearly three years ago, but it’s the stuff I remember the most. I don’t want to forget all of these silly little things my kids say or do that make me love being their father so much.
The reality is, being their dad is one of the most frustrating, hair-pulling, thankless and exhausting jobs on the face of this planet… and I wouldn’t trade it for all the beers in Ireland.
Not to keep harping on that photo of the daddy-son crime-fighting duo, but I thought I would point out a couple more things:
1) A superhero doesn’t reveal their identity in public. Just saying.
2) As any parent who has watched The Incredibles 873 times can tell you, a cape can get a superhero killed. So this Superdad is going to go sans cape. And for all you parents who have somehow avoided watching this movie, please at the very least watch the following clip. You life could depend on it:

FINAL NOTE: This story was just the tip of the iceberg in Matthew Lutz’s parenting adventures. If you want more, follow him on Facebook. If you’re completely satisfied with just the tip, Matt won’t be offended, and there’s no need to click the button to “Follow Matthew Lutz

MATTHEW LUTZ is an award-winning man, lover and highly decorated Origami Master (we’re talking full contact origami; none of that fold and admire nonsense). He’s a humble genius who has graced the pages of The Guinness Book of World Records for speaking in Haiku for 364 days straight; It would have been 365 days, but the judges mistook the last matt-lutzword of his final poem, “leave” as a direct command, and obeyed. He can bake 30-minute brownies in 23 minutes flat if he has to, but he prefers not to. He is a connoisseur of middle-shelf bourbons. Collector of authentic reproduction Volkswagen print advertisements from the 50’s and 60’s; when advertising “had real avocados”, as Lutz so eloquently puts it. He’s affiliated with over 87 secret societies; some of them, like the Sons of Motown, will kill you and all of your descendants just for printing their name. He lives with his much-taller wife, Alison, his 3 prodigy children, Lily, Declan and Finnegan, his perfectly-trained chihuahua, Chico, and his wife’s rescue dog of unknown decent (Egyptian Foulmouth?), Frenchy, who is the absolute worst. When he’s not breeding prize-winning sea monkeys, he can often be found admiring the classiest collection of sandglass art the world has ever known, which he also just so happens to own. He is currently crafting his highly anticipated first book, and somewhat less anticipated fourth child.
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