I was all set to wax poetic about my husband and all that he's done to earn some rightful recognition on his parenting(letting C1 watch Chuckie at the ripe old age of 2 not included for obvious reasons...) but I thought I'd provide a public service announcement instead.
This, is not what Father's Day is all about. I remind all who tread on the hallowed grounds of spermiNation to remember it is not about QUANTITY. The mere fact that you may have millions of wee swimmers bound and determined to quick time it up to a lowly, waiting egg, does not mean you must use them all for such a lofty goal.
While your head and longing loins(are they one and the same I ask you?) may cry out for hasty gratification, let your wallet be your guide. If for no other reason then it knows, by simple addition, the price you can not afford to pay. For even when it is filled to the gils by the mere minimum wages and no doubt hard earned dollars you pack away, it fails to support the 20 something offspring created by your nimble nether parts. It is here we find that the old adage is not always true. You sir, have proven, that your sum is not greater than your parts. Congratulations. My how proud you must be.
And while I applaud you, (not really), for knowing or at least professing to know, each and every one of their birthdays and WOW, even their ever lovin NAMES, now there's a feat oft only accomplished by weaker, less fertile men no doubt, who strive to remember only a mere one or two, maybe even three or four names attached to living breathing children, I can not muster the strength to support your endeavors. I wonder, will they each come to visit you as you sit, on others dimes, in jail for failure to support them in other more meaningful ways, like maybe, I don't know, spending time with them, instead of, doing time for them?
I'm glad to read that you have stated "I'm done, I'll say I'm done.", I have to question why now? Why,after 20 or possibly 21 children, does it matter, really? Has the light suddenly bestowed some infinite wisdom on you? Why not go for the even two dozen? You're only 29, you have years of fertility left in which you might share more of yourself with the rest of us.
I doubt, call me crazy, it comes from some sense of moral certainty that your creative days are behind you. I suspect, instead, that you find it infinitely more difficult to procreate in an environment that refuses you conjugal rights. I shudder at the thought.
And so, forgive me, if I don't wish you a Happy Father's Day. Something tells me that the only folks who are celebrating you right now are the fat cats at Hallmark. But I could be wrong. Lord, I hope not.