Dad-lympics

As the games of the thirty-third Olympiad wind down in the City of Lights, I am reminded of a quote by the German poet Ludwig Jacobowski: "Do not cry because they are past.  Smile, because they once were."

And while hardly anyone seems to follow this advice during times of sadness -- funerals, endings of Hallmark Christmas movies, etc. -- I still appreciate the sentiment.

But.

Can't we do even better?

Two years will pass before we are treated to another Olympics, the 2026 Winter Games in Italy.  Yea, four Earth orbits will commence before we get another Summer Games.

Instead of simply smiling because they happened and resigning ourselves to a fate of odd years with no Olympiad, how about this?

An Olympics for regular people.  Competition for those who aren't all that athletic, or as I like to refer to us, the other 98%.

Unfortunately since I know remarkably little about women, and child labor laws being what they are, my games will be restricted to men.  Specifically, dads.  Because after moms, the military, philanthropists, firefighters, doctors, nurses, teachers, Captain Sullenberger, Rocky Balboa, and a host of others, aren't dads the real heroes?

Therefore, for your careful consideration, I propose the Dad-lympics (or Games of the Olympi-dad, I haven't decided).  They would be held every odd year to help fill the seismic void in our lives -- particularly, mine -- as we wait for another real Olympics.

Without further adieu (other than the 500-word intro you just powered through) I present my original, soon-to-be-copyrighted ideas of events for the Dad-lympics.

Toddler High Toss ~ We begin with an all-time dad favorite.  Children will be tossed into the air and (ideally) caught.  Scoring will be a complex formula based both on the maximum height reached by the child along with the highest blood pressure measurement recorded by each anxious mother.

Single-Trip Grocery Carry ~ Winner will be the Dad who can carry the most bags of groceries in from the car in one trip while avoiding children repeatedly asking, “Can I carry that?”  Dads will also have to manage to unlock the front door because even though she knew you were going to the grocery store, your wife is mysteriously unable or unwilling to come to the door.  Dads will not be required to put the groceries away, however, because, even if we tried, it wouldn't be right.  (And all the dads said "amen.")

120-Volt Perpetual Power Saver ~ Dads will be tasked with walking around a three-story house, checking that all lights and appliances are turned off and that all windows and doors are closed and locked, whilst making sure the thermostat is set to no lower than 75 if it's summer, no higher than 66 if it's winter.  Simultaneously, a couple of toddlers will be roaming through the house reopening doors, turning lights back on, and readjusting the thermostat. Constantly. This game actually never ends.  Until you die.

Well, that... took a dark turn.  Let's continue.

Home Scavenger Hunt ~ Each Dad is given a list of ten common household items and tasked with locating them all.  In the likely event all items aren’t found, the contestant who finds the highest number, or even just one, wins.  Here's the catch: You can only text your wife eleven times.

Beach Gear Gauntlet ~ It’s a race against the clock as Dads carry a large cooler, beach umbrella, and beach chairs down two flights of stairs, across a busy street (who can afford to stay ON the beach???), over a long, slightly uphill boardwalk, and across 150 yards of soft, scorching sand.  At the end of the boardwalk, your child will require you to take their shoes, the bottle of water you just paid $3.50 for, and the large body board you told them they could only bring if they carried it; because their "legs are tired" and "it's hot."  The event ends once you have successfully set up the umbrella with your child constantly asking, "What are you doing?", "Can I help?", "Why can't we put it closer to the ocean?", and "Why don't we have a giant tent like those people over there?"

Dad Joke-a-thon ~ This one will be subjective.  Judges will base their scores on a variety of factors including loudest audience groans and most pronounced eye rolls by your wife.

Attentive Listening ~ Kidding!  What's next, Tandem Talking About Our Feelings?

Kid Trivia ~ Contestants will (attempt to) answer a series of questions about their child.  When is their birthday?  What is their social security number?  Etc.  They are also given photos of their child’s five closest friends and have to guess, er, give their names.  In the final round, dads will be asked to name those same friends' parents.  Just kidding.  No one can remember their child’s parents’ names.  It’s unknowable. 

Sprint Napping ~ Simple.  Who can fall asleep fastest in their favorite chair?  This one is bound to come down to thousandths of a second and be over quickly.  So don't blink or you’ll miss it.  Or, you might just win it.  Am I right?

Dad-nastic Dish Stacking ~ Dads will compete to see who can stack the most dishes onto a dish drainer.  Judging will be based both on the total number of dishes as well as the height and width of the stack.  Points will be deducted for each dish your wife is able to remove without making the others fall.

Non-Artistic Assembly ~ No style points here.  This one is about getting the job done.  And probably will involve some cursing.  Each Dad will assemble identical IKEA couches and coffee tables without using instructions.  Quickest to finish a relatively reasonable replica of the picture on the box wins.  Bonus points given for fewest parts left over.  This all must be done while holding a beer in one hand.  No instructions will be provided.  Not that we would ever read them if they were.

There you have it!  Ten what I believe to be tolerable, if not above average, events to kick off the games of the first-ever Olympi-dad.  I figure we'll start by getting YouTube out here to livestream it.

But first, I need a nap.

Hey, not all heroes wear capes.  Or even manage to stay awake all day.