As usual, I’m running behind posting. The idea is there (or sometimes it’s not) and I’ve written and re-written it in my head, usually in the middle of the night when I’m too
lazy tired to get out of bed and look for a pencil and paper. That, and risk exciting our guinea pig who thinks breakfast starts the moment someone stirs after a long period of silence. But I digress…
It seems everyone, with “Daddy’s day” just around the corner, is talking about great gifts for Dad. I’m sure my Dad wouldn’t object to a new car or an Alaskan cruise, but he has me for a daughter, and I just don’t have that kind of cash. Unless the car is a Hot Wheels®.
But no, my Dad endured the annual celebration complete with lots of hugs and the usual round of crappy gifts – smeared artwork, tie cards, and jars of peanuts. One year I knit him a pair of slippers. There are only 7 shades in the rainbow…my slippers boasted 13! First, my Dad never wore slippers. Second, I didn’t have an allowance. Third, I was 11 and I didn’t know how to knit. He kept them in his dresser drawer (probably because Mom told him he wasn’t allowed to throw them out)! They may still be there. He listens to my Mom!
Another year, I made him a jar of pickled bums! I couldn’t find the photo but it looked like this (only my “bums” were also various colours of the rainbow). I was a creative child!
I told him to throw those out last year.
One year he even got his own blog post. You should read it – I worked really hard on it and you’ll see just why he deserves so much better!
My Dad is a great guy…quiet, unassuming and patient. SO very patient! The rest of the year he put up with my fairy-princess-drama-queen-girly-girl behaviour. He even let me practice “walking down the aisle” when we walked home from figure skating practice (I think he hated every moment of it), but the practice paid off!
This year, I baked him brownies. There were from a mix. And he had to share them with the rest of the family. But in my defence, I still don’t have an allowance and it’s the thought that counts. Right?
Love you Dad!