Happy Father's Day weekend to all the good dads and to the men who step up when all the bad dads abandon their families. Unfortunately, as far as I know, there are more bad dads than good dads out there, even fewer men who step up.
Mr. Big was, and is, a horrible dad. He never calls his children. Never sends them cards or presents. Never shows interest in them at all. In other words, he is a big fat douche and should have been sterilized at birth. He prefers hoes to children, power to love and money to commitment.
He is a bad dad, like Hitler would have been. Or Chris Brown.
Scott is an awesome dad, even though he's a stepup-dad. He doesn't owe my kids anything, but he treats them like his own. He sacrifices for the family. He forgives a lot of trespasses. During the Smyth Road days, he drove home drunk girls and carried Stef up the stairs when he passed out in the foyer. He drove Marissa to Cornwall for basketball. He's bailed Nick out of many tight spots.
Like all other step-up dads, Scott comes from a place of love.
On Father's Day, he will get turkey dinner and some nice Scotch. A few cards.
Mr. Big will get squat.
Which is exactly what he deserves for mistaking sperm donorship for fatherhood.
I am writing this with much perspective, love and yes, a healthy dose of bitterness.
I hope Karma works and Mr. Big comes back as a snail.