My first “official” Father’s Day has come and gone. We’ve always celebrated it in the past, but this year was different. Perhaps it’s because I have a biological child now. Or, it may be that now that there are two children, our family feels more like the traditional American ideal of . . . something.

I woke and came down to find some brightly colored wrapping paper and cards awaiting me. I grabbed a cup of coffee and some donuts (my family knows my weaknesses) and I got ready to revel in my fatherhood. Then Intercot went down. So I had to investigate that because John is out of town.

When I diagnosed the problem and decided there was nothing I could do, I went back to the festivities.

The girls gave me some CDs. The best one was Brian Wilson’s Pet Sounds Live, wrapped in a real Hawaiian shirt, complete with a picture of a Woody on it. I think they thought this was a great joke, giving me the traditional ugly shirt. However, it backfired when I immediately put it on and wore it the rest of the day.

I think my lovely wife had a sudden glimpse of our retirement. Me in an ugly shirt, red shorts, sandals with sunglasses berating the kids at the local coffee shop (in Florida, of course). I really do like this ugly shirt and it will become a classic member of my wardrobe. When I get depressed, I can wear the shirt and lay in bed . . . just like Brian Wilson did.

Matilda made me a book called “Fun Stuff You Want!” It’s quite cute, filled with pictures of computers, TVs, Refrigerators(?), comfortable pants and a section in which I can add my own wants and desires. However, the best part of the book is something that betrays her wry sense of humor (something most kids her age don’t have). There is a dedication page with my name in a drawing of a computer. On the opposite page is, and I’m not kidding, “A Fun Picture Book For Children”. I love that kid. I rolled on the floor when I saw that. She has a bright future.

Baby Gertrude made me a book as well. Her mom helped. It contained pictures of herself (she’s so vain she probably thinks this blog is about her) and a cute narrative about how much she loves me. For example, under a picture of her eating the Sunday paper is this:

“Every morning I see my Daddy rustle around with this neat, brightly colored stuff. It makes really great noise, and I promised myself that as soon as I was big enough to pull up on the table, I’d rustle this stuff around just like my daddy.

“Sure enough, I got it! Daddy grinned at me and let me taste the printer ink.”

She’s a smart kid. Her Mom’s no slouch either. And all three of them are such pretty girls. I think I managed to luck out in this situation. How did I end up with such a great family?

Also, the voting came down to the last minute, but I managed to win the “Father of the Year” award from the girls. I have a signed certificate and everything. I’ll have to check into possible prize money. After all, the Nobel comes with cash. Why shouldn’t this?

I have to admit that I did lobby quite a bit for this award. I’ve stepped up my campaign with trips to the birdie hospital, shopping sprees, surprise ice cream runs, trips to the park and nightly readings of the first Harry Potter novel, complete with distinct character voices.

Since I can’t let any thing go by without reflecting over the over all significance of the day. Really, I thought about the role of a father and what that means.

We can’t really depend upon the media to show us what a father is. Turn on any television set and you’ll find a befuddled moron, mildly interested in his children and hell-bent on finding his next beer. Can’t trust magazines either. Most parenting magazines focus on the point of view of the mother, only mentioning fathers when they invariably screw up.

I don’t think I’m alone in this. I know there are plenty of involved, participating fathers who are huge parts of their children’s lives. However, there is no role model for us. We can’t look to anyone or any resource as inspiration other than our own fathers.

I am a proud father. I want to watch my kids do everything. I know my brothers are the same way. We are all more involved today than many men were in the past. We split the duties of raising the children. “Split” isn’t the right word. We share the job, work as a team with our spouses.

My wife and I are certainly a team. We work together to ensure that our children are safe, happy and living in an environment as free from hardship as possible (it’s impossible, and not recommended, to avoid).

Being a father isn’t difficult; it just takes time and dedication. And being a father is so much more than a nine to five job. Sometimes you have to act as a surrogate to other children who may find it easier to come to you for advice than their own parents. Sometimes you have to be an objective observer for the young ones.

In some ways, I’ve become the neighborhood dad. Kids come over to play not just with my daughter, but also with me. Even if I’m just sitting at the computer, they want to see what silly things I’ll say. They want me to make the baby talk. They get excited when GeekFriend (who will one day make a great father himself, even if he never has kids) arrives because he has such wonderful toys in his truck. We play together outside, go for bike rides. When the kids are at the bus stop, it’s me they come to for help with conflict resolution.

One of the local kids is a “trouble maker”, except when I’m around. He doesn’t want to disappoint me. Even his parents somehow deign to what I say, in some bizarre way. I once saw him riding his bike recklessly through the neighborhood. I asked him if he had a helmet. He said no. “Well,” I said, “You should really get one. It could save your life. And it’s local law that everyone riding a bike wears a helmet.” The very next day he came back to show me his new bike helmet.

Fathers deserve better. We’re not all bumbling morons. Just as all moms don’t leave their infants in trashcans. The bottom line is that we love just as well as we are loved. We give all we can and ask for nothing in return.

When you get the chance, take a look at your dad and think about what he’s done for you. How many dads out there never cease to surprise? How many times has a little girl wished she could learn to play piano, lamenting the fact that she didn’t have one to play, only to find a Kimball upright in the living room the next day. No explanation, no conditions.

That’s what we dads do. We usually do it quietly, without question.

Besides, we have remote controls now. It frees up time.