damn the man

Last year I wrote a Father's Day post. I don't think we did anything special, but I know that I held Jake's hand around a pen and wrote the word "Daddy" on a notecard. It is still on the fridge.
The year before that I didn't even mention it in the blog, but I kinda remember driving in circles for hours trying to find Dave's baseball field in Mt. Nowhere, New Jersey because it was Father's Day, dammit, and my boy was going to spend some time with his dad.

This year we hung out downtown at the School of Rock show because a friend's son was playing. It's funny how a bunch of pre-pubescents can play better than most any crappo band at any crappo bar around. Then we went for ice cream, which is a nice treat. Usually we eat ice cream in the dark, alone, with only the television to witness the gorging.

We aren't big holiday people. If it isn't my birthday or there isn't some sort of cookie or festive drink involved, you aren't likely to find us at the table. We talked about how absurd all these high-pressure, low-reward days are and Dave said something to the tune of "that kid doesn't owe me anything today or any other day, I owe him everything. He didn't ask to be put here, I chose to bring him into the world".

I like it.

Put it in a card and maybe I'll buy it next year.

I did think it was super cute when Jake ran to the window to see Dave coming home from his baseball game this year (that we skipped) and screamed down the street: "HI DADDY!! HAPPY FADDER'S DAY! COME INSIDE!".