“Dad and Me,” Friend, June 1992, 8–10
My daddy and I are the very best friends.
He likes to call me his good buddy.
We always go fishing
And swim in the creek,
And hunt snakes, then go home very muddy.
When Mom says, “You’re dirty—you can’t come inside,”
My dad looks at me, and he grins.
We hook up the hose,
Then we turn on the tap—
And the first one who’s clean is who wins.
All sopping and drippy, we lie on the porch
Until we’ve been dried by the sun,
Then fold up the lawn chairs
And sneak in the back,
Have a snack, and make plans for more fun.
Today is the day that the lawn must be mowed
’Cause Grandpa and Grandma are coming.
We snap on the grass bag,
Then yank on the cord,
And the neat old machine starts a-humming.
At first Daddy tells me to just sit and watch,
While he does the hard work of mowing.
But soon he winks at me,
And he calls me to help,
’Cause, he says, he can see I’ve been growing.
Last Saturday morning, my dad said, “Good buddy,
Just cast your eyes out in the yard.
That great big old tree there
Is calling to me—
Building tree houses isn’t too hard!”
I got my red wagon, and Dad got some tools:
Two hammers, two saws, and some nails.
We went to the shed, where
The dogs are all fed,
And picked out some planks and some rails.
We measured and sawed for an hour or two
(The ground was soon covered with dust).
I climbed to the top while
Dad handed things up
(He knew I was one he could trust).
When the tree house was done and our workplace was clear,
We entered our mansion to rest.
Mom brought us some cookies
And two cups of milk.
Dad chortled, “Aren’t these times the best!”
Last spring when the winds started whipping and blowing,
My dad said, “The time is just right
To get some wood
And some paper and string
And to build a fantabulous kite!”
We found a big field with no wires or trees.
We ran till the kite was in flight.
Up into the blue
With the birdies it flew
Till it almost soared clear out of sight.
At night, after Dad has been working all day
And I’m tuckered out just from playing,
We sit and read books or
Tell stories and talk,
Then we kneel with the fam’ly for praying.
He sits by my bed, and he tousles my head;
He wishes me happiest dreaming.
As I go to sleep,
Through half-closed eyes I peep,
And I see my dad’s kind face is beaming.
I’m my daddy’s buddy, his helper, his friend;
I guess you could call us a pair.
I cannot believe that
A child could find
Any niftier dad anywhere!