When God made fathers
When the God was creating Fathers, he started with a tall frame.
An angel watching nearby said, “What kind of a Father is that? If you’re going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put the Father up so high? He won’t be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without stooping.”
God smiled and said, “Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?”
And when God made a Father’s hands, they were large.
The angel shook her head and said, ”Large hands can’t manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails, or even remove splinters caused from baseball bats.”
Again God smiled and said, “I know, but they’re large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets, yet small enough to cup a child’s face in them.”
Then God moulded long slim legs and broad shoulders.
“Do you realise you just made a Father without a lap?” the angel chuckled.
God said, “A Mother needs a lap. A Father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, to balance a boy on a bicycle, or to hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus.”
When God was in the middle of creating the biggest feet any one had ever seen, the angel could not contain herself any longer. “That’s not fair. Do you honestly think those feet are going to get out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries, or walk through a birthday party without crushing one or two of the guests?”
God again smiled and said, “They will work. You will see. They will support a small child who wants to ride or scare mice away from a summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill.”
God worked throughout the night, giving the Father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that see everything, but remain calm and tolerant.
Finally, almost as an after thought, He added tears. Then he turned to the angel and said, “Now are you satisfied he can love as much as a Mother can?”
The angel said nothing more. — Erma Bombeck