Defending the family, one socked foot in a sandal at a time

You walk into a room with your family, this room will be where you and your clan will be eating for the next hour or two, what is the first thing you look for? An open table, the restroom, or the shady individuals that will need a whooping if they dare threaten you and your family?

I am going to make a wild and very accurate assumption. Every father is looking for the evil punks that will force them to call on their four weeks of boxing lessons from the early 00’s to bubble up and dispatch fatherly justice.

If you are a dad and you walk into your church and don’t look for escapable exits or barricadable* rooms, then you need to step it up in your God given, testosterone fueled, masculine drive to be able to karate chop bad guys and save the day.

Look, I don’t make the rules. Dads have four jobs, love their wives, tell awesome jokes, raise Godly kids, and have nigh-delusional visions of fighting off WWII axis death squads. You haven’t been carrying that swiss army knife for your health, it is a tool of righteous paternal fury.

Now is the time to pack that backpack you’ve had since high school with zip ties and glow sticks - a vietnam era MRE, and bat you sawed down to billy club length.

Do it dads. Your kids’ imagined peril demands your vigilant watch!

-Ryan “Sarge” Pretz

*no “Barricadable” isn’t a word, but it should be.