Just kidding. Kind of.
Here are a few examples:
1. I watched a dad carry his infant son around by the straps of his overalls. Since he wasn't my husband and the kid wasn't my kid, I did not yell what I would have yelled had it been Dave, "OH MY GOD! What are you doing? He's a baby! Good lord, give him to me."
2. Pushing the twins on the swings, I left Dave to watch Andi while we were at the park. She was 10 months old. Standing in wet wood chips -- with very little traction to be able to take off running -- I looked in Dave's direction as he yelled from the TOP of a TALL slide, "She can do this right?" And before I could respond and while my feet were trying to get traction, he releases my infant and she FLIES down the slide, goes airborne at the bottom, and lands on her butt.
3. It took a year, but Dave finally regained my trust and I let him have responsibility for Andi while at the park this past father's day weekend. And what does he decide to do? Hang her from the TALL monkey bars and then let go of her. "She wants to hang," he told me as I snatched her off the wood chips, wiping the splinters and mud off her bottom.
4. My dad used to put me on the back of his bike when I was a preschooler and race down the steepest hills he could find. I'd squeal with delight -- my head bare of any helmet should we crash...I survived and so will our children...so I guess it's okay that dads do it
Thanks for putting the thrill, bumps, bruises, and popcorn with waaaaaayyyy too much butter into my childhood Dad. I love you. Happy Belated Father's Day!