Daddy's Boy

Daddy's girl. Momma's boy. I don't know about you, but I can honestly say that I'm a Daddy's boy and a Momma's boy. However, since we've been discussing "Shooting Dad" and "Arm Wrestling with My Father", I'll dedicate this one to Pops! :)

My dad is a pretty easygoing guy. He moved to Canada from Vietnam in 9th Grade. If I ever had to think about the American Dream, I'd think of my dad except he went on to fulfill the Canadian dream. Starting from nothing, he worked in bagel shops, graduated from the 20th best university in the world (University of Toronto), and is now living a successful life with a happy family. That's why he pushes me so hard in my academics. His mentality is "If he can do it, so can I!" I usually ask my dad if I ever want to do something fun like hang out or sleepover. He understands what it's like to have fun with other guys. But if there's a test or a lot of homework, no way José he would say yes! However, he's a fair person and he's been through high school and university, so he knows what it's like to deal with all this stress.

If I had to choose between physical or emotional, I would lean towards the physical relationship. My dad might ask me about the girls now and then, but that's a rare occasion. When I think of a physical relationship with my dad, I think of all the times we would go downstairs and play hockey in our makeshift hockey rink! My dad kept part of it unfinished so we could go and play hockey. Sometimes, I would win. Sometimes (and truthfully, most of the times), I would lose. When we played, we played to win. Other dads might have gone easy on their little boy, but not my dad! It was all or nothing. If you win, you win. If you lose, you lose. We would push and shove each other whenever the puck was near those brown cabinets as if they were the hockey rink's boards. Get slashed in the knee, and we'd still continue playing. Shoot the puck hard and hope it goes in! Our whole basement floor was covered in puck marks and hockey stick marks. Whenever I lost, I would cry and whine like a little baby. "It's not fair!" I would cry! I'd throw a tantrum and get mad at my dad, and my dad would just laugh and pretty much say "Sucks to suck!" Wow was I such a sore loser. Mind you though, this was when I was in my elementary and early middle school years!


Nowadays, I never have time to spend time with my family even though that's what I love to do. It always seems like I have some sort of homework or extracurricular activity. Other kids may be partying on a Friday night or on New Years Eve, but not me! I stay home with the ones I love most: my family.