Ya think I would have learned by now that my three grown children don’t need me to remind them to unhook their hoses in the winter or change their furnace filters. But my natural instincts as a father scream for me to “mentor” their adulthood. Just trying to save them from some things I learned the hard way.
I must have too much time on my hands if I worry if #2 son has cleaned the lint filter on his dryer. Has the eldest changed the oil in his car? What about daddy’s little girl? Has she started saving for retirement?
I’m not talking about the times they will call and ask questions. On occasion, one will call and ask for my thoughts on this or that. Usually, it’s about raising children. Which is my cue to immediately pass it on to my wife, who has a better way of explaining parenting?
In addition to thinking up things they should be doing, my job is to be the curmudgeon, the dad joke guy, the cook at family gatherings. Slowly, I’m learning they don’t entirely agree with my assessment of who is running their life these days.
What do you call someone without a body and no nose? Nobody knows.”
Okay, I get it; they are adults and have families of their own. So, maybe I should only offer suggestions on their careers. Then I remember when I tried to do part-time work for my daughter’s business. Take it from me, it’s not a great idea to suggest changes in the way she manages her already successful enterprise.
Furthermore, do they even know we are living in a pandemic? Are they wearing masks and social distancing? I wonder if I should just send them a text reminding them to have a great day and take a clean face mask with you when you leave the house.
Well, perhaps I should just leave a voice message, “Hi, it’s summer and time to clean out the fan coils on the air conditioner. Love, Dad.”