You and I are friends, so this is already awkward. Rather than call you about this, I thought I’d reach out to you via the Charlotte Agenda. You see, we are both married to women far more well known than we, so I figured we could use all of the publicity we can get.
As you know, my better-half, Page Crawford, hosts FOX46’s “Good Day Charlotte,” and as much of the western hemisphere knows at this point, you and and your wife Emily “Breeze” Watson recently welcomed baby Bly into the world. Breeze has gained notoriety over the last few months through the slew of “CLICK HERE TO WATCH THIS MOM BENCH A CADILLAC WHILE 14 MONTHS PREGNANT!!!!!!!” articles that came out toward the end of her pregnancy.
As a new dad, I’m sure you are getting bombarded with advice: Babies should eat every three hours. Babies sleep best standing on their heads. Babies should have their own Insta accounts. (Side note: You are absolutely crushing the last one. Nice work.) Bottom line, use your best judgment. What I’m here to help you with, however, is to prep you for what will ultimately become your greatest challenge as a father…
Faking excitement over Father’s Day gifts from your children.
Bly turned 1 month yesterday (please tell me you didn’t celebrate that…dammit, you did… OK, we can address this in my next letter), so this isn’t something you have to worry about now, but next year? Bruh.
At 13 months you are almost guaranteed a paper plate with “LO~^~~–oo0” (translation: I Love You, Dad!) across the top and a Rorschach test in the middle (translation: those are supposed to be foot prints, and don’t worry, they used a gallon of paint – he doesn’t have fallen arches).
Don’t believe me? Please see the following examples of past Father’s Day gifts from my three animals, Ford (7), Cal (6) and June (3):
My God. Where to start on this. OK, let’s just go from the top.
F – “Friaverite,” Ford? Really? Someone’s been crushing Rosetta Stone’s French CDs. Also, I could take or leave the coler red.
A – No complaints here, except for the tail you added to the second (which should actually be the third, sigh, nevermind) “d.” Actually, that’s sort of cool. You get a pass here for creativity.
T – I can only assume you mean P.M. If this is some twisted guilt trip to get me to play XBox with you before the sun comes up, I’m out.
H – As the legendary poet Rihanna once said, “Worck, worck, worck, worck…” Anyway, I’m pleased that you feel I’m careful and diligent, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than “tacke’s.” Is this pronounced “takis,” as in the delicious, flaming hot, mini rolled tortilla chips? If so, hell yes I takis my time on worck.
E – No tail on the “d” this time? Boooo. Also, I’m suuuuuper thrilled you added an action verb of me walking out on the family.
R – DAMN. RIGHT.
May I present exhibit No. 2, Montell, and although there is less to critique here… wait… ARE YOU CAL’S DAD?!?
Finally, I submit June’s entry from yes, age 13 months. Like I said, preschools are all-in on hand and footprint artwork. Frankly, I’m still trying to figure out what this is, though. A fly swatter? A disciplinary tool? A Peruvian soccer flag? Also, I’m 85% sure that’s not actually June in the picture.
So, there you have it, Montell. Start working on that fake smile now. Sure, Bly’s cute, but for the next decade or so he’ll be funneling you straight garbage on Father’s Day. Not to worry, though – Breeze just texted me asking for gift advice for you. I know how you love spicy food, so I got you, playa.
Mr. Page Crawford