Sunday was Father’s Day, and judging by my friends’ posts online, there are a lot of papas out there vying for title of World’s Best Dad.

Seeing this left me reflecting on how my own father stacked up against all of the “World’s Best.”

With me being an only child, my dad only had one chance to get things right, and to be fair, a lot of times he did. Other times, not so much.

He taught me a lot of great things: don’t cry in public too much, eat all of the food he paid good money for and for the love of God, stop getting into so many wrecks.

But the more I thought about it, I remembered a lot of bad advice my dad gave me too.

In sixth grade I was able to try out for our junior high basketball team, a great experience to put my awkward tallness to use.

“Tryout,” my dad said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst thing happened. I made the team, which of course meant I ended up playing my first and last season of organized basketball. There are no quitters in the Vining household.

One time my dad got me a three-wheeler, which I absolutely loved — my mom, not so much.

A three-wheeler is just a four-wheeler with only one wheel on the front, like a big motorized tricycle.

Less wheels unfortunately equates to less stability and much, much higher rollover potential. I proved this tried and true theory time and time again.

So although I had plenty of fun, it may not have been one of his best calls.

Not all of my mishaps growing up came from bad advice or poorly thought out gifts. Some of them came from a lack of supervision.

For instance, the time I broke my arm falling off the trampoline, or the time I broke my arm falling off of a horse, or the time I broke my arm diving for a ball.

Or the time he had me install the motion-detecting lights and I got electrocuted, or the time I cut deep into my finger because I didn’t know how to hold the electric hedge trimmer.

All in all, I lived to see today, and I’m moderately successful. I have him to thank for that, so thanks, Dad. Thanks for giving me more good advice than bad, safe toys than not and supervision than absence.

So what if my dad’s not in the running for World’s Best. I’d give him an A-minus at least. If I can get by raising my own kids with an A-minus, I think I’ll be in good shape.