Father's Day Blog

6:05 a.m. I hear Jack's door open, him clomp along to the bathroom, things crash and slam in there, and then him head back into his room. More crashing. Typical morning, really, sometimes no different if Jack is trying to be quiet. A few minutes later our door opens, and there's a crinkle and a rustle of paper. Jack is there, holding something up. "For Father's Day," he says. It's a miniature plastic Dallas Cowboys football helmet, autographed by Tony Romo with an official certificate of authenticity. Jack actually tried to show it to me in his closet several times this week, but I kind of figured out early (maybe because he told me) that it was a Father's Day present and I resisted seeing it. And I owe a phone call to Aunt Cathy, who I think knows what the story is with it. Something about a raffle I believe. Jack: "But we don't like the Cowboys?"

6:15. Jack and Emily have gone downstairs to let me "sleep in," but Jack returns with Father's Day cards. And Kate, who's now awake and Emily deposits her on my lap. I open up the cards, ones made at home and school. Kate's from school has a picture of her in it, and her hand print, and she doesn't want to let me have it. She smiles coyly as she clutches it and moves away from me. Jack's includes a construction-paper tie and a beaded key ring, whose letters read "I LOVE YOU DAD." Jack asks me if he can keep it. Actually, he asked me on the way home from school on Thursday.

7:00. I make it downstairs for blueberry crumb cake and coffee. The kids climb over me a lot during it.

10:00. Watched a "Phineas and Ferb" show. Lots of good laughs.

11:00. We play some with Jack's toys and Kate's animal puzzle, her favorite toy these days. She likes standing the animals up (they're blocky wood puzzle pieces) and clapping happily when she's done, as well as showing them to me one by one, occasionally identifying them. Apart from calling the flamingo a "duck," no matter how much I correct her, she usually gets them right. Plus, she acts like she's correcting me: "No, Daddy. I keep telling you. DUCK. Duck." She's very firm on this point.

12:00. Kate's napping, Jack and I have had lunch, so we go out for father-son activities. First we collect some bread and go feed the ducks at the nearby office park. There was an incident once a year or so ago -- a couple of rather larger geese got greedy and came out of the water for bread -- which adds an element of danger to the whole thing. Jack was kind of shaken by it. So now we go and I make doubly sure they're not coming out of the water and am ready to scoop him up if need be. We heave all the bread in bit by bit, I take a picture of him with my cell phone -- he's wearing his little floppy hat, it's damn cute -- and we leave without incident.

12:30. We're at the fish store getting Jack more fish. We have four, so we're going up to eight. Just little fellers. Jack of course wants frogs, turtles, guinea pigs, rabbits, cats, dogs.....but ultimatley grudgingly settles for fish. "I want another Dodo," he says, which is the red one. The sole original survivor of the fish we bought him over a year ago. So I buy another red one and three others (which together are the same price as the red one, I might add) and we're off again.

1:00. The fish are in their new homes and Jack seems happy. So do they.

2:00. We play Candyland. I think Emily whispers to Jack to let Daddy win, and I put on a show of being all sad about losing, pretending to be morose or whatever. Jack kicks my ass anyway -- first legitimately, then by drawing the ice cream card which he has placed, totally without guilt, on the top of the deck. Father's Day or no, I'm not going to win my first Candyland game from Jack today. Maybe next year.

4:00. Jack's neighbor Max comes over for a bit. All three kids run around wildly for a while. Kate is fascinated by Max, I think. She stands in place and yells, "Max!" Pause. Then: "Max!" Max basically ignores her. She doesn't mind much.

6:00. We've eaten dinner, and now it's time for Fudgie the Whale, the best thing Carvel has ever made. It says "For a Whale of a Dad." Jack and Kate each get pieces of "Dad" and devour it with much enthusiasm. "Goodbye, Fudgie!" says Jack, as we pack the rest of him away into the freezer. Kate continues eating, pausing only to say, "More?"

7:00. Hide'n'seek. I make Jack laugh from his standard hiding place in his room by pretending to talk underwater in his fish tank ("Arebbbbb youbbbbb therebbbbbb Jackcbbbbbbbb?") and then, when he's hiding near Emily's dresser, bonking my head on my desk repeatedly as I look for him under it. High comedy, for him anyway. I have a bit of a headache, but it's a small price to pay.

8:00. I slip out of Jack's room having read him stories and sung him to sleep ("Sixteen Tons," which he now sings along with). A special day, but really, just another one of being Jack and Kate's father.