From superhero to dad

There is a brief period in the average child's life where your dad appears to be a perfect being. They can do everything that you can't. They're indestructible and make absolutely no mistakes, unlike yourself who still struggles to go doodoo in the toilet at this age.

I only have a few memories of this time, jaded by hindsight, but I can recall when I used to expect the best from my parents without question. I wouldn't second guess what they were planning as a shy child because I believed they always knew exactly what they were doing.

My first disappointment

I can't have been much older than 3-years-old when a seemingly forgettable moment became a core memory.

A bit of background about toddler version of me; I loved animals. I watched David Attenborough documentaries all the time, when I wasn't re-watching the lion king. I had been bothering my dad all week about going to the zoo (likely due to some promotion on tv suggesting I do so). He was getting exasperated with all the work he had to do, most of which was done at home (before it was cool) where I had ample time to get on his nerves. Before long, he caved.

"Fine! We'll go to the zoo tomorrow, after I get some work done."

And so I had succeeded in my endless badgering. The next day came far too slowly, but I awoke just before sunrise and settled under his desk. I popped in and out of his office over the course of the morning, quietly waiting without a word. Just hovering: there's no need to ask about the zoo again, afterall, my dad has a plan and we'll go soon.

I kept that thought process up all day. Just imagining all the wonderful creatures I would get to set my eyes on.

We didn't go to the zoo. I didn't even mentioned it again. I was crushed, but at the time, I still believed my dad knew exactly what he was doing. He hadn't forgotten or made a mistake, he just had a new plan and surely the zoo would come tomorrow, or the next day.

My first trip to the zoo happened in my teens.

I remember the exact moment I realised my dad was flawed.

Like many dads raised in Britain, mine was, and continues to be, a big fan of football (soccer for the uninitiated). He pushed that love of the most beautiful game on all of his children, with half of us picking up the passion. One of whom was my older brother.

Around the same age as the zoo incident, my dad decided to take me to support my older brother in an after-school semi-final between other schools. I didn't understand much about the sport at the time, just that you kick the ball into the net, but I mainly recall enjoying these events because I spent half of the game sitting on my dad's shoulders.

Your average school football pitch in Britain has no seats and leaves most parents standing on the sidelines cheering on their kids. The problem with children playing football is that they tend not to be very good at it. Especially when it comes to ball control.

On the day of this fateful semi-final, one of the children on the pitch lived up to expectations and toe-punted the ball right into the crowd. I just so happened to be in that crowd and my face happened to be in the path of that ball.

In a flash, the ball bludgeoned my nose and forcefully dismounted me from my dad's shoulders. I fell all the way to the ground. Thankfully, I got away with few physical injuries.

However, tears still came in rivers, not for the pain I felt but for the shock of it all.

I wasn't just surprised at being hit by the ball, but also found myself confused as to why my dad didn't stop it all from happening. I blamed him. For the first time in my life, I believed my dad made a mistake.

Happiness doesn't need perfect

Those of you that have read this far will have learned by now that, although flawed, my dad wasn't a bad man. He worked hard and tried to be there for us in the moments that mattered.

He wasn't perfect either. But that doesn't matter.

In a world where social media constantly reinforces this idea of perfect, it's important to remember that we don't need perfect to be happy.

I didn't feel the need to tell a story about how my dad did something truly selfless or kind one time because my dad was, and continues to be, far from perfect. But he still tries to be my dad. He makes it known that he always wants to spend time with the rest of my siblings and I, and he goes out of the way to make that happen.

That's all it takes to be a good dad. Kids don't need a superhero, they just need their dad to show up.