Papa Bear and Daddy
If you’ve ever read one of the Berenstain Bears kids books, you have an idea of the kind of father my husband is. For those of you who aren’t familiar, let me explain.
In the Berenstain Bears, Papa Bear has a propensity to teach his son how to do things using the “do as I say, not as I do” approach. For example, Papa Bear will warn his son to not pick up any old rock at the seashore. Then he’ll get bit by a crab when he picks up some old rock at the seashore. He’ll tell young bear to be careful checking an old stump for a beehive, then encounter a startled skunk.
Well, I apparently married Papa Bear.
Case in point: once he told Sierra to be careful around a fire he’d set in our outdoor fire pit. In particular he was telling her not to walk around barefoot since it was easy to accidentally step on a burning ember.
Which he then aptly demonstrated by kicking off his shoes, walking half way around the fire pit, then suddenly started howling in pain and hopping on one foot because… he had stepped on a burning ember.
This is also the man who is the first to tell me that you have to respect wild animals because they can turn on you suddenly. Then he came very close to being gored by a buffalo, saved only by the relative proximity of the women’s rest room. Why did the buffalo charge? Because he was staring at it from 10 yards away.
Most recently he admonished Sierra to wear better shoes to hike around on our camping trip earlier this month, then proceeded to fall because he was wearing …
Sigh. Need I go on?
It’s gotten to the point where I think the best gift for Father’s Day around here might be additional health insurance.
It’s strange because many times he’s perfectly capable to taking on wild bees, stuck jar lids, and smashing scorpions while we all scatter to higher ground.
But it doesn’t last. Soon his inner Papa Bear re-emerges. Like when he realized too late that the snake he was releasing decided to crawl up into his truck instead of into the nearby culvert causing significant consternation and a decision to park the truck outside for a week.
One thing for sure. It’s never, ever dull. Not always safe, sure, but never dull.
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