Welcome to Loyal Reader #27 - Amy "Dubya"! We are so glad you joined. Remember our motto: "If you have to be awake all night with a newborn, might as well read aliyahbyaccident."
And a big shout out and mazal tov to all my SAR friends, especially Shoshana Bender who asked me for this shout-out, on their last day of school!!!! (Well, last day for the kiddies; the teachers have to stay longer for in-service, but as I've always said, it's so much easier to get work done at school when those pesky kids aren't around.)
(Digression: From the mouth of Ariella: "How do you say 'MaZAL Tove in English? Oh right, MAHzel tuv.")
Now, onto Dadz. Yesterday, Monday, Momz berated us Leibtag children for not calling Dadz on Father's Day. Now, we never really did the whole "Father's Day" thing when we were growing up, aside from cards in the shape of a tie that we would make in school and write cute things on. (This is why there's no Father's Day in Israel - no one wears ties.) But after we stopped doing that cutesy stuff in school, we pretty much forgot about Father's Day. However, it seems that now it's back in style. Then Dadz himself, while we were chatting (the typing kind) on Skype - get back on your chair, yes Dadz WAS able to figure out how to chat online, and didn't complain once that he couldn't see me - berated me for not having an "Ode to Dadz" on Father's Day. So suffice it to say I was under a lot of beratement yesterday. Well, Dadz, here it is.
An Ode to Dadz; Or, You Asked For It
First, let's start off with a multiple choice quiz. Which of the following moments did NOT happen when we were growing up? (Hint: Trick question.)
a. Dadz calling me up in Stern to ask "how to rewind a video without having to watch the whole thing backwards."
b. Dadz wearing sunshine yellow shorts and argyle knee socks on the boardwalk during vacation.
c. Dadz, at my bat mitzvah party, - that tender, sensitive time in a young girls' life - while we were taking a picture with two close friends of the family who have sons around my age, drunkenly making a joke about me marrying them.
d. Speaking of drunk (and no, Dadz does not drink often; it's just that when he does, embarrassing things tend to happen), the many Simchat Torah celebrations at Suburban Orthodox Toras Chaim, when he would get drunk and have a grand old time, Dadz-style. Please don't ask me to elaborate. (Risa, ask your husband about the hours he and I spent in the hallway of Suburban during Simchat Torah, traumatized by our dads, thumbing through the "therapist" section in the phonebook.)
Answer: That's right, the answer is "e. They ALL happened!"
But of course, it wasn't all embarrassing moments. Dadz is also the King of DOF (Day of Fun.) During those weeks in between school and camp, and camp and school (now, as a parent, I fully understand the dread of those weeks, and I apologize to my parents on behalf of schools and camps everywhere for being so unkind), Momz and Dadz would switch off being home with us. With Momz, days off meant buying new shoes and school supplies. Now, I love buying new school supplies as much as the next nerd, but one wouldn't describe those days as "thrilling." However, when DADZ took off with us, it was a whole other pair of argyle socks - Adventureland! Hiking! Harper's Ferry! Serious amounts of fun, including the one day he took us to this zoo somewhere in the middle of nowhere that turned out to be not so hot, but he made us stay until 4:30 so that we would get our money's worth. That's what happens when you have a CPA for a Dadz.
In fact, one year Dadz and I had an entire summer of DOFs. This was because I was at Bais Yaakov camp, and Bais Yaakov believes having camp on Friday is one of the big three aveirot. (The other two are "unexcused absences" and "untucked shirts.") So anyway, on Fridays, when the good ladies of Baltimore were spending all day making their potato kugels, Dadz and I went out. Museums, parks, hiking, you name it. Then, there were our summer vacations to Wildwood - the same vacation of the aforementioned blindingly yellow shorts - when Dadz would get up early with us and we would bike ride down the length of the boardwalk, finishing off with a cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice. (Bought, not made. We're not that kind of family.) And of course, who could forget "Climb on Daddy", our special Friday night activity? (The instructions are simple. Dadz gets down on the floor, on all fours. The children climb on him. At some point, everyone collapses.)
And now that he's a Zaidy, Dadz has continued his fun-loving ways with the grandkids. Filling up Zaidy's shirt pocket with rocks, turning an "errand" into a "fun-rand," those infamous puzzles - Dadz is the MAN. (I should note here, however, while many "Dadz" activities transfer easily to "Zaidy" activities, "Climb on Daddy" is just not one of them. Cre-e-e-e-a-k.)
I wonder, if Dadz knew, some twenty-odd (and they were odd) years ago, that all of his embarrassing moments would become blog fodder (or, as he calls it, Blog Fadda - as in father. Get it?), if it would have given him pause before committing some of his worst offenses. But then I think, nope, that's the thing about Dadz. Most of the time, Dadz is one of those quiet, hard-working, Dunkin' Donuts-eating CPA types. But when it's time to let loose - watch out! Dadz loves to have a good time! And who cares what people think! He's going to live it up, and as we have learned over the years, it is much more fun to join in.
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