Father, papa, dad, padré… there’s a wide plethora of titles for the job.
It’s a position requiring vigor, determination, patience and tact.
Thus, we take this day to honor those men who serve it well.
Day de Daddyo stands to honor acts spanning far beyond paternal conception contributions… otherwise, we’d buy overpriced Hallmark cards reading “Happy Sperm Donor Day!!” rather than “Happy Fathers’ Day.”
Fathering a child doesn’t necessarily earn you the nameplate of Father…
A true father is that guy who sat and watched early morning cartoons with you, changing to the news during commercial breaks, but was sure to switch back before you missed any significant plot development during Scooby Doo.
The same dude who let you make increasingly dumb mistakes and fall flat on your back… but was readily standing close by to pull you up and make you try again, until your were finally ready to stand on your own feet.
The man who helped you totter into the person you were destined to be, even before you could recognize what that truly meant.
Let me tell you a story. Picture it… Valdosta, Georgia, 1999…
I was a wee tot in the 3rd grade wearing a Rugrats t-shirt and bearing a homework assignment to create a project reflecting the life of the nation’s monumental first president, George Washington. I decided upon creating a book explaining the life and times of President Washington, complete with my own masterful Crayola illustrations. Teeming with creative enthusiasm, I hopped into my super hot whip at the time (a fire engine red Radio Flyer chauffeured around the block by my big bro), held a fat encyclopedia in my lap and commenced in writing a commendably elaborate and exciting biography. Only later did my young self realize that my mom had provided me with the encyclopedia as more than just a hard surface to write on.
The evening before my project was due, I submitted the completed work for my father’s seal of approval. As he scanned my well-formulated pages with intrigue , I noted a growing expression of concern covering his placid face. Upon concluding, Daddy looked into my pridefully shinning eyes and asked, “Darcy, where did you get the information to make this?”
My befuddled reply, “Well… I wrote it. Isn’t it good?” The reality of the situation being that I had made the entire thing up. Disregarding the need for research, I completely fabricated every chapter of this founding father’s existence. And as utterly compelling as my version of history was, Daddy had a hunch it wouldn’t fly too well with the munchkin educational management.
So my father and I set to work with the editing and revision process. We stayed up late into the night (probably like 11 pm… forever late for an 8-year-old), with Daddy carefully dissecting the significant elements of my story and replacing fiction with legitimate facts, then handing the page back over to me to rewrite with my own stylized flair.
Though I stand firm that my original copy was superior, the factual version did indeed earn me a A+.
If I claimed that as the only occasion my dad stayed awake after hours helping me to complete my homework, I’d yet again be lying… I recall a particularly God-awful insect preservation project that I just couldn’t handle. I’m not saying that a good dad is the one who does your homework for you, but…
A good dad—no, a great dad—is one who avoids stifling their kid’s instincts, and fosters their intrinsic creativity and capabilities. Daddy could have very easily reprimanded me for recreating George Washington’s life according to my own discretion, but he didn’t. He simply told me that it was beautifully written and very imaginative, but helped me to transform the project into a slightly more historically accurate piece. This recollection from my youth remains the earliest incident existing in my memory where I recognized my own aptitude for artistry through the written word.
Not that such a revelation mattered at this point… I had my heart set on growing up to be an animal cop, or Judge Judy.
All the same, I dedicate this post and these fluffernutter sandwich cookies to mine and all of the fantastic fathers out there. Kudos to you.
My dad would either totally love these peanut buttery treats, or hate them for being overwhelmingly sweet. In truth, he’d probably just scrape out the cream center and eat the cookie part like he does with his Oreos. Either way, I’m certain he’d praise them as the greatest fluffernutter-inspired creation in existence. Cause that’s just what he does.
Prior to last year, I had no idea what a fluffernutter was. A friend brought the apparently popular sandwich up in conversation one day and subsequently explained that it consists of white bread slathered in peanut butter and marshmallow fluff… and that he ate them all the time as a child.
Sounds like a terrible idea. Daddy, thank you for serving me real food for lunch… and everything else you do.
Happy Fathers’ Day
Fluffernutter Sandwich Cookies
for the cookies
- 1/2 Cup Granulated Sugar
- 1/2 Cup Brown Sugar
- 1/2 Cup Peanut Butter
- 1/4 Cup Butter (Softened)
- 1 Egg
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- 2 Tablespoons Honey
- 1 1/4 Cups All Purpose Flour
- 3/4 Teaspoon Baking Soda
- 1/2 Teaspoon Baking Powder
- 1/4 Teaspoon Salt
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.Sift together the dry ingredients in a mixing bowl and set aside
In a large mixing bowl, beat the sugars, peanut butter, and butter with an electric mixer until well combined and fluffy. Beat in the honey, vanilla and egg until well blended. Add in the dry ingredient mixture until dough forms.
Shape dough into 1 1/4 inch balls. Place balls about 3 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Flatten in crisscross pattern with a fork. Bake 7-9 minutes or until light golden brown. Cool one minute; remover from cookie sheets to cooling rack. Cool completely, about 15 minutes.
For the marshmallow cream filling
- 8 oz. jumbo (or mini) marshmallows
- 1 stick butter
- 1/3 cup milk
- 2 & 1/2-3 cups powdered sugar
Heat the butter, marshmallows and milk in a saucepan over medium heat until melted. Whisk together until smooth. remove from heat and allow to cool. Place in a large heat-proof bowl, beat in powdered sugar 1/2 cup at a time.
Spoon the filling onto the flat side of a peanut butter cookie and top with a second cookie, lightly pressing to create a sandwich.