I awoke from an troublesome dream this morning with a tune in my head and the words, “Somebody’s paper daddy.” The visual in the dream was as follows: There were two babies lying on their backs with only diapers on. On each of their stomachs was stuck a picture about two inches square with a child-like drawing of a man, with the notation “Somebody’s paper daddy.”
I hurt for every little lad who only has a paper dad. A name was left in his family tree, but no man to hold him on his knee. No father’s lessons on catching bugs, or snakes, or spiders, or slimy slugs. And paper daddies can’t give bear hugs.
What a loss to each little girl, with no father to watch her twirl. No dad to call her his “little princess,” nor to applaud her every success. No father to give her sage advice; nor excitedly say “Great, you did it twice!” No man to teach her how to know, the time for caution and going slow. No model to show her who to date, and warn against a deceitful mate.
Are you the man who fathered this child? Did you leave your name on paper, and drift off into the wild? Leaving a little somebody who never had, a real life father – no, just a paper dad.