Daditude: How I’m becoming Elaine Benes’ father.

All fathers are intimidating. They’re intimidating because they are fathers. Once a man has children, for the rest of his life, his attitude is, “To hell with the world, I can make my own people. I’ll eat whatever I want. I’ll wear whatever I want, and I’ll create whoever I want.” – Seinfeld, S02E03 “The Jacket

Pipe down, chorus boy!

One thing I’ve noticed since I’ve become a father is a general disregard for other people’s crap and some social conventions regarding “politeness”. I’m pretty sure I’m channeling Alton Benes.

This may sound like an odd statement to those of you who know me; I am often perceived to be someone who doesn’t really care about these things anyhow – which is not entirely true. I often find myself being awkward about things that aren’t that big of a deal… for example, if Carrie and I are on a road trip and have some water bottles which we’ve emptied (purchased ones – Dasani, etc.), Carrie will just want me to go into a gas station to fill them up at a water fountain rather than purchase more. For some reason this sets off my “socially awkward” alarm and I have a hard time doing it. These are the kind of things that I usually care about and get wierded out by… I don’t know why.

Lately, though, I’ve grown a bit of what I’m calling a Daditude. That is, if there’s something regarding my child’s (or baby mama’s) comfort, hunger, privacy, or anything else that I notice needs taken care of – I just do it.

I don’t care who thinks it’s rude or weird or anything else… you can deal with it, my kid is happier when we sit in the shade so I’m going to sit right behind you in the grass.

I think that this is healthy at some level. I’m not doing this for my own good, comfort, or whatever… it’s for the two ladies who are my priority. The things that I won’t do to save myself $5 or make myself less blasted hot are things that I’ll blow right past for these two without looking back.

So, if a bald-headed dad with big eyes pushes you out of the way for a place in the shade for his daughter’s stroller, I’m sorry.

Kinda.

Not really.

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