Stupid super dads suck

Three of my friends built tree houses for their children.

One (and maybe two) are minor death traps, but still. These men designed and built things with wood and nails.

I can’t tell you how impossible that sounds to me.

My daughter wants a tree house. Knowing that I have twice asked a friend to fix lamp only to find that it needed a new bulb, she is saving her money for one rather than asking me to build one, which makes a lot of sense and also hurts my feelings.


Tree houses are one thing. Spacecraft simulators like the one this man built for his sons are an entirely different thing.

He sucks. I hate him. 

Did you know that Daddy doesn't sleep. My daughter has proof.

My daughter woke up at 5:45 this morning. Sirens from nearby fire engines and police cars woke her up. After checking in on her mother and finding her asleep and fairly nonresponsive, she came downstairs.

“Dad, I just can’t sleep.”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s okay. It’s morning. You’re allowed to be awake. It’s early, but it’s still morning.”

“But Mommy’s still asleep,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “It’s still really early.”

She paused for a moment beside a window, and then she turned to me. She had a smile on her face. “Listen, Daddy! The birds are awake! They went to sleep, and now they’re awake.”

“Yup,” I said. “The birds are awake, and I’m awake, and you’re awake.”

She looked out the window again, and then she turned toward me again, hazing hard. She furrowed her brow. She tilted her head slightly. She looked utterly puzzled. “Daddy,” she said. “How come you don’t have to sleep?”


Then it occurred to me:

Except for bouts with pneumonia and the stomach bug, my daughter has never, ever seen me asleep. For the first five years of my life, I have always been awake, out of bed, and fully dressed before she ever opened her eyes.

My daughter doesn’t think that I sleep.

She thinks that her Daddy is a superhero.

I fear that I have set the expectations on her future husband exceptionally high.