06/20/2026
As an eight-year-old little girl, I wasn't just convinced my daddy LOOKED like Fred Flintstone.
I was convinced that was his job! Seriously.
I thought he got up every morning, put on his suit, went to work, somehow turned into Fred Flintstone, made cartoons all day with Barney Rubble, and then came home in time for dinner.
In my defense, look at him. ๐ Daddy had friends who absolutely could have passed for Barney Rubble in my little eight-year-old mind.
Not kind of. Not sort of. CONVINCED.
What makes me laugh now is that decades later, I somehow ended up cooking in a kitchen with rock countertops and grout, that I have had raisins, disappear in! I've always referred to it as my Bedrock Kitchen.
Daddy was a storyteller. Looking back, i'm fairly certain that's where I got it from. Who knew little Mary Jayne might have been onto something all along?
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. โค๏ธ
I mean, seriously y'all... Look at my daddy. Look at Fred Flintstone. I was eight. What was I supposed to think?๐