“Do you want tea or coffee for ‘second breakfast’?” I asked my husband. “I’m fixing waffles.”
“What? Tea or coffee? What are you having? What are we having?”
“I’m having tea, we’re having waffles…and fruit, lots of fruit,” I told him.
“OK, tea then. What’s the occasion?” Peter asked.
“It’s Father’s Day.”
“You’re making me waffles?”
“Mmm-m,” I said, “it’s Father’s Day.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. It’s Father’s Day, do nothing until I tell you it’s ready.”
“I’m good at doing nothing,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” I said.
This day is perfect — a Crayola box of colors, balmy air, bright sun. I set the table outside, made a pot of tea, washed raspberries, blueberries and a peach, got out real butter and real maple syrup, and popped a whole package of frozen waffles into the toaster.
Peter ate as if he hadn’t had a meal in days. “I would like to have two birthdays every year…” he said, smacking his lips.
“This isn’t your birthday, it’s Father’s Day.”
“Not February? What is it then?
“June. It’s never warm like this in February,” I said.
“Well, I’d like two birthdays like this. This is good.”
“It’s still Father’s Day.”
“Are we doing anything special later?” He made a silly, little boy face.
“Yes, Leslie is taking you…and me…to a movie and dinner.”
“Wow, I’d like another birthday like this.”
A card arrived from Carolynn yesterday. On the front, the unmistakeable silhouette of Mickey Mouse, Peter’s hero, and a “Hooray for Dad” message. He looked at it again and again, then put it next to his chair. When I looked at it this morning, I realized why he’s confused about today. The message says:
As far as dads go,
there’s not a more classic
character than you.
Hope your birthday’s
as special as you are.
Beneath that she wrote, I know you can’t remember all the cool things you did with Leslie and me…but we do! Happy Father’s Day!
Birthday? Father’s Day? Doesn’t matter. He’s loved by “his girls” and he’s happy.
Mickey Mouse webgrab/Pinterest