The question of a son, on Father's Day

It's Father's Day. My family made me great cards, got me chocolate, undies and some rocky road, and told me how much they love me. Little Jesse woke at dawn and smiled at me for half an hour.

I often wonder what I will say to my sons when they leave home. Or turn 21. Or get married. Or become a father. Here's one question I've stumbled across that I think'd work for each of my sons, on any of those occasions (and maybe all of them).

You are writing a gospel 

a chapter each day 

by the words that you say 

and the works that you do.  

Men read what you write  

disturbing or true.  

My son, what is the gospel 

according to you?

10 favourite sayings of my Dad

1. She's as cold as charity.
2. You are cruisin' for a bruisin'.
3. You never know your luck in a big city.
4. Son, that stinks so bad it could fair dinkum kill a brown dog.
5. I had to laugh...
6. My son, to thine own self be true.
7. He doesn't know whether he's comin' or goin'.
8. He's a flawed genius.
9. Be careful son - always remember that b*llsh*t baffles brains.
10. I love you.  

What are some others?

A boy and his Dad

I'm reading 'Danny the Champion of the World' to my sons at bedtime. Recommended by a friend.

My boys love Roald Dahl's gear. They love how each chapter ends on a cliffhanger. They love the story about a boy and his Dad. It's got a lot to say about fatherhood, and there's nothing like being a father to your sons by reading them a story on fatherhood, to make you think about your own. 

Amidst the narrative are lots of powerful little insights that Dahl drops in like raisins.
Like this raisin, that my mate Al noticed.

But here's one that opened my boys eyes up wide tonight. Dropped as it was in the middle of the scariest scene of the story so far... where Danny really does ponder the possibility that his Dad is lying alone in Hazell's forest, bleeding out from gunshot wounds. He's weighing up the idea of driving the old Austin motor vehicle to go find his Dad. His Dad, who's never left Danny alone like this before. It's 2:30am.  He's never driven outside the yard. He's never been out of first gear. He's just 9 years old.

"I will not pretend I wasn't petrified. I was. But mixed in with the awful fear was a glorious feeling of excitement. Most of the really exciting things we do in our lives scare us to death. They wouldn't be exciting if they didn't."