Fathers' Day

Childbearing is the most momentous event that can occur in a man's life. "Blessed is he who hears many tender voices calling him father," said Lydia M. Child, the celebrated American feminist. But it is a quality that involves devotion and tenderness. Indeed, conceiving is not only launching a new being into the world. It is also giving him a seed. It will germinate, grow and bear fruit or thorns, regardless of the care we give it.

You learn to be a good father by instinct, not by manuals. But does anyone know what it is to be a good father? Care for the children financially? Buy them the best backpack to go to school? Take them for walks once a week? Come on, that would be done by anyone, without being a parent. No, a good father is a higher category, made up of apparently insignificant details.

The best parental contribution is to give your small people a little of your time every day. A few minutes to read and play together, to talk about feelings, behaviors, good habits ... But not with rhetoric that they do not understand, but with fantasy. A phrase from the heart can deeply penetrate the fine skin of their sensibility.

A while ago I read an anecdote on the Internet that shocked me. I share it so that you can appreciate how much they surpass us in certain circumstances. It is a fabulous thing.

"One night, a boy asks his father: 'How much do you earn per hour, dad?' The father responds with another question: 'Why do you want to know?' And the boy: 'No, for nothing.' Then, he asks for 5.00 pesos. And the father: ´What do you want them for? ´ And the child: ´To make an important expense.'

"The father gives him the 5.00 pesos bill. The next night the child asks him the same question and makes the same request. The visibly angry father reproaches him: ‘Do you think they will give me the money? It's insolent that you're asking me how much I earn’. And send him to sleep.

"After a few minutes, the father reconsiders and, regretfully, thinks that perhaps he was a little hard on his son. He approaches the child's bed and caresses him. ‘Excuse me,’ he apologizes, ‘sometimes I'm not in the mood. Here you have the 5.00 pesos.'

"The boy looks at him tenderly and asks him quietly: 'Doesn't it bother you if I ask you again how much you earn per hour?' The father sighs deeply. ‘It doesn't bother me,’ he replies, ‘I earn 10.00 pesos an hour.’ Then the boy lifts the pillow, takes the 5.00 pesos from the previous day and says to him: 'Dad, I already have 10.00 pesos, take them. Could you spend an hour with me now?´”
Perhaps some of us have seen ourselves reflected in this sobering parable. It is very real, and we know it well. Entrenched in the fragile pretext that "we have a lot of work," we stop enjoying sublime moments that will never happen again.

The good father does not imagine how much he loses when he allows the distance to take shape between him and his descendants. To justify such a lack, no excuse works. It is precious time that can never be recovered. Few moments are as important as an hour with the children ... and with dad.