Every Kid Should Have a Funcle Fay

This is for my best friend, who my children know and love as their wacky “Funcle Fay.”

Thanks for sticking around all day to give me a hand with the kids and some much needed company.

Thanks for reading them bed time books tonight when they missed their daddy.

Thanks for watching their goofy Razor scooter show spectacular even though your bones shook in the cold.

Thanks for flipping my misshapen crepes when I ran off to change Pigtails’ Pull-Up for the zillionth time. Thanks for eating the last one too.

Thanks for allowing me to sneak away and journal for 45 peaceful, quiet moments at the sub joint.

Thanks for gently talking to Mouth about the consequences of fibbing as only his best adult friend could. And, yes, since you asked, he has heard of the “boy who cried wolf.”

Thanks for bringing me back a rich walnut brownie from 7-Eleven. It’s staring me down from the kitchen counter right now, demanding to be devoured.

You are an amazingly involved, caring uncle. The kids love you and so do I. Until our next weekend pajama party with our favorite “Funcle Fay” …

Oh, and thanks for teaching my kids how to repeat everything I say in an annoying nasal voice. This new non-skill should take a few days to deprogram. That and all the “poopy head” name calling you started so long ago.

Don’t you worry, Funcle supreme. I’ll get you back and you know it.

Did you have a fun Funcle Fay when you were growing up?

I did. I still do, even if I don't see him much. His name is Uncle Mike. He used to feed us cold pizza for breakfast when he babysat. Breakfast of champions. We had a blast running around the house like wild banshees with awesome Uncle Mike, my dad's only brother.

*Funcle Fay's picture was taken down at his request. Ugh.