Mark Elswick, aka "Padman," has overcome the hurdles of fatherhood and lived to write about them in this humorous collection of short stories based on his own experiences as a man dealing with women, especially his daughter. Whether it's having to go to the store to buy those...um, feminine hygiene products for his daughter, worrying over the older man his daughter wants to date, or just accepting that he's reached middle-age and is becoming an old man, readers will smile with familiarity at the incidents, sympathizing with Elswick's feelings and admiring his pluck to keep going in the face of what often threatens his manhood or at least his masculine self-esteem.
Nor is Elswick above poking fun at himself. While he may be amazed and stunned by the things the women around him do, he ultimately laughs at his own reactions to events and the expectations women have of him. When he tries to outsmart women such as by "multi-tasking" (watching the game while changing his daughter's diaper), his efforts have a tendency to backfire, ultimately to his and the reader's amusement.
One of the issues my son was having was dealing with textures. He didn't like touching anything that would make his hands dirty. He would eat a chicken leg by stabbing the meaty part with a fork. At school they wanted him to finger paint; you would think that would be simple right. I have a series of pictures of him finger painting on a paper plate and the look on his face is like they put "poo" on his hands. But it got worse he didn't like the soap to wash his hands to get the paint off.
During this time I would go to work and tell my girlfriend about all the things my son was doing. I would be frustrated and upset. She would just laugh. I am at the brink of tears all the time and she is crying because she is laughing too hard.
"At that point, I stopped exhaling and even stopped breathing. What I grasped in my right hand was what I had thought was a string. Now, I quickly realized it was no string at all. As I brought what I thought belonged in my daughter's shoe to eye level, I felt it was nearly the worst Dad Moment in my parenting life. I could have screamed when I realized this "string" in no way resembled what I had originally thought.
You could've knocked me over with a feather when she said that. I couldn't speak, not utter one word. I wordlessly picked up the crayons she directed me to, drew her little person and a house with a 'For Sale' sign in the front. Her little head bobbing in satisfaction, she told me my drawing "would do" for her class.
She proudly displays her poster at school, giving me credit for more powers than any parent could ever dream of having. You see, I am a real estate broker, I find those houses for people who want one and help others sell their homes. I can't leap buildings or stop speeding trains or anything special like that, I just listen. I listen to what my client(s) hopes and dreams are, I listen so I can get to know them.
Nor is Elswick above poking fun at himself. While he may be amazed and stunned by the things the women around him do, he ultimately laughs at his own reactions to events and the expectations women have of him. When he tries to outsmart women such as by "multi-tasking" (watching the game while changing his daughter's diaper), his efforts have a tendency to backfire, ultimately to his and the reader's amusement.
One of the issues my son was having was dealing with textures. He didn't like touching anything that would make his hands dirty. He would eat a chicken leg by stabbing the meaty part with a fork. At school they wanted him to finger paint; you would think that would be simple right. I have a series of pictures of him finger painting on a paper plate and the look on his face is like they put "poo" on his hands. But it got worse he didn't like the soap to wash his hands to get the paint off.
During this time I would go to work and tell my girlfriend about all the things my son was doing. I would be frustrated and upset. She would just laugh. I am at the brink of tears all the time and she is crying because she is laughing too hard.
"At that point, I stopped exhaling and even stopped breathing. What I grasped in my right hand was what I had thought was a string. Now, I quickly realized it was no string at all. As I brought what I thought belonged in my daughter's shoe to eye level, I felt it was nearly the worst Dad Moment in my parenting life. I could have screamed when I realized this "string" in no way resembled what I had originally thought.
You could've knocked me over with a feather when she said that. I couldn't speak, not utter one word. I wordlessly picked up the crayons she directed me to, drew her little person and a house with a 'For Sale' sign in the front. Her little head bobbing in satisfaction, she told me my drawing "would do" for her class.
She proudly displays her poster at school, giving me credit for more powers than any parent could ever dream of having. You see, I am a real estate broker, I find those houses for people who want one and help others sell their homes. I can't leap buildings or stop speeding trains or anything special like that, I just listen. I listen to what my client(s) hopes and dreams are, I listen so I can get to know them.
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