There are different kinds of dads in this world and there’s no arguing that some are good and others are bad.

Then you have nice ones, rude ones, strict ones, and embarrassing ones, those you call in any crisis, dads who will paint your house, dads who babysit your kids and, dads who have gone from this world but have left a legacy of love and life lessons for their kids.

Whichever type your dad is, like me, you probably think that yours is one of a kind.

Here’s why I think that mine is so special in his own odd way.

It’s not that he’s perfect or a superhero of sorts, but there’s something about him that has always fascinated me.

You see, he’s the most brash, politically incorrect person I’ve ever met, and yet, somehow, people love him. Wherever we go, people huddle around him like flies to... well you know how that saying goes.

He will hardly remember anyone’s name, and will not call anyone back for a chat, and yet, the next time they meet him, he’s back to being the magnet in the room.

But, as I said he’s not perfect - the truth is that he’s been peeving me off ever since I was born. He started by not letting me inherit his beautiful deep blue eyes, and instead he gave me his ugly toes – the most disgusting foot appendages I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life.

If you had to see the disgusting little things you’d agree that those alone would justify lots of animosity, but it’s not just about the toes, my dad is not a man of many niceties either but whilst most dads would probably hate it if their daughters talked about their flaws to the nation, my dad won’t.

So it’s father’s day today, and like I do every year, yesterday I gave him some gifts.

Every time, I wrap them up decoratively and hand them to him hoping I got it right, and every year, he looks at me, says thank you, and still wrapped, he puts the gifts down somewhere and asks me what’s inside.

Every time, I give him ‘the look’ – an eye shot that can’t be mistaken for anything else but one thing – “open the darn things or I’ll scream so loud I’ll break your window panes.”

And every time, it doesn’t work.

Every time he looks back into my eyes, puts down the stuff, and walks away to continue doing whatever it was that he was doing.

Hours later I’m begging him to open them, and hours later he finally obliges...as a personal favour to me of course.

So this year, I thought I’d trick him. I thought I had a magnificent and flawless plan up my sleeve.

This year I decided to go against every decorative instinct in my body and not wrap his father’s day presents at all.

I put a pair of shoes, a pair of swimming trunks and a shirt in a bag and just handed them to him unwrapped.

One small peak inside the bag would have revealed its contents, but no can do!

Eye witnesses who were present at the scene of the crime will testify that once again he didn’t bother.

He put the bag down and didn’t look inside.

He thanked me, but this time he didn’t even ask me what’s inside, and went on with his business.

Once again, hours later I was begging him to get them out of the bag and to try them on. Minutes later he was parading up and down the house, showing off his new wares. You should have seen him in his new bathing trunks with his socks still on... a scene witnesses have been scared with for life.

As you can see, like most parents, my dad has the power of irritating the hell out of me, but then he reads this blog religiously, and even when we disagree, he’s one of the few people who actually gets it.

And how long can you be ticked off with someone who shares your sense of humour? Not long I tell you.

So happy father’s day to all good dads out there. Remember, good dads are not rich, strong, tall, or nice. Good dads are those who as you reach for your glass of cola, give you a knowing look but don’t tell you mother that you’ve already had two ice-creams and a chocolate.

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