Super Dads and Underpants

What is it with super heroes and underpants?

Seriously, how hard can it be?

Undies first. Pants second. Simple.

Even 4 year old Miss Adventure gets it. Most of the time.

Super Mum was away with work last week.

No biggie. I’m a Super Dad.

Cooking. Cleaning. Band aids. Cuddles. Bath time. Bed time. Breathe. Beer.

I was in a routine and on a roll. Saving the world. My world, at least.

Time to challenge the cliche. To shatter the super hero stereotype. And travel so far out of my comfort zone I needed to pack an overnight bag.

Plaits and painted nails for Miss Adventure. Two things I have absolutely no experience with.

If Australia’s father of the year Ben Roberts-Smith – a real hero – can do hair and nails for his twin girls, I had no excuse not to give it a go.

Miss Adventure showed patience well beyond her years as I fumbled my way through.

Fat fingers slowly weaved a fat, loose plait.

I’m a quick learner, though. I quickly learned big fingers are more suited to painting walls than painting nails.

It wasn’t perfect. Truthfully, it wasn’t even good.

But Miss Adventure was happy. Super Dad to the rescue.

I guess in our kids’ eyes, all us dads are super.

Miss Adventure often remarks how I can fix anything. Super Mum will tell you the reverse is true. And Super Mum’s always right.

Miss Adventure is at that remarkable age where she doesn’t yet know everything. But Daddy does.

Miss Adventure believes I can make the traffic lights change colour.

“Abracadabra, make the lights go green,” is my incantation. Just after I see the lights facing the other way turn amber.

Miss Adventure reckons I’m a Super Dad.

I know the day is coming when I offer to do her hair and she rolls her eyes at me, snatches the brush out of my hand and exclaims: “What do you know about hair! You don’t even have any!”

So hair and nails was a no-brainer. I’ll give anything a go, while she’s still young enough to appreciate it. And before – in her eyes – Super Dad morphs into Daggy Dad.

The glow of success stayed with me until I ventured into Kindy for an early pick up.

Miss Adventure was running around the playground with her mates. Until she saw me. She stopped dead in her tracks.

This is the bit where she’s supposed to run at me, screaming “Daddy” and give me a world class hug.

Not this day.

Her left hand slammed onto her hip. Her right hand was suddenly upright, one finger berating me.

“Daddy!” The word was right, the tone was all wrong. “You did not put any undies on me this morning.”

Those words were kryptonite.

“Hang on,” I eventually stammered. “You dressed yourself this morning.”

And she was wearing shorts, so how was I to know?

But fact and logic have never had a great relationship with super heroes.

I could see it in her eyes.

I’d taken the first step from Super Dad to Daggy Dad. And once that journey begins, no amount of flying around the world will reverse time.

After all, how hard can it be?

Undies first. Pants second. Simple.

Follow Michael on Twitter @MichaelCoombes