Not exactly practical...
Not terribly tactical...

Your crazy son, his face in a book,
Eight short years is all it took.
Reading the ancients,
Tried your patience,
But better a quack than a crook...

So after all these years, blood, sweat, and tears,
fears and spears and jeers and sneers (that ever there were)
and just a couple beers (I think, it's all a blur)
the newly donned doctor prescribes a toast
to the man he owes the most:
"To a father's day that's just begun
And a crazy son who's finally done!"