Dads rule

As we approach our national day for fathers, it is my journalistic duty to blow the lid off a secret society men have kept to themselves for too long. It’s called Dad School.
My own dad finally told me about Dad School one day as he helped me pack the car for college by consolidating the contents of two large suitcases into one duffel bag.
“I learned that in Dad School,” he said before highlighting a few points of the Dad School curriculum.
Most dads, it turns out, are not the hapless extra children in the family as portrayed on TV and at Bunco. In fact, much like stuntmen, dads have to be really good in order to pretend to be really bad at certain things. These valuable skills can only be perfected after a rigorous program of study at Dad School. A sampling of classes:
Dad Cooking Quirks
Once a man becomes a dad, he is only allowed to cook a few things, but they must be prepared in the most complicated way possible, with much Shogun-style flipping of utensils and jars of “secret” ingredients, which are usually cinnamon and garlic salt. Dads hate herbs.
After preparation, the meal is given a special name to make it seem better than Mom’s version, such as Alacapooper Macaroni.
Dad at the Drive-Thru
When Dad’s meal burns, the family must go out. The drive-thru, however, seems like a persistent problem for dads, who cannot master this marvel of modern technology. In Dad School, fathers learn new ways to embarrass their families by taking classes like How To Pretend You Can’t Understand the Order-taker, Concepts of Confusing your Kids’ Food Choices and Advanced Fast-Food Lingo.
My husband, a father of three, cannot exit a drive-thru without muttering about how you can talk to a person in Japan on a wireless computer but, at Back Yard Burger, somehow the only word you understand is “waffle.”
My own dad, an honor student in the lingo class, once ordered a Wendy’s single with mayo, lettuce and mayonnaise.
Mall Etiquette for Dad
This class is required for all dads with daughters. Contrary to the myth, dads do not hate to go to the mall. It’s almost like continuing education for them, a chance to show off their expert dad mall-walking stance (innocuous facial expression, hands clasped behind the back) and to pick up tips from all the other dads waiting outside Kirkland’s.
In fact, if you see a dad inside Kirkland’s, you’ll know he’s a Dad School dropout since, for Dad School alums, scented candles really are like kryptonite.