The rules of Father’s Day:

1. Be nice to Dad.

Well, I guess that’s the only rule, or at least that’s what I told Anna. The consequences of not following rule number one are that other holiday rules might be broken as a result, such as the rule of having a party for one’s birthday. She straightened right up.

Today, I got breakfast in bed, where “breakfast” is defined as two eggs, and “bed” is defined as the kitchen table. Nothing wrong with that I suppose. Jen and Anna occupied each other for the morning while I washed my car, mowed the lawn, and trimmed the hedges–all things of my choosing. It’s nice to be able to do a task without interruption, and I don’t get to do it very often. Also, I received some handmade crafts from my lovely daughter.

After nap we went to the Padres game, which wasn’t really much of a game, but it was a nice outing. We went with four other families, all with three-year-olds, and it was astounding how well they behaved. Not much fussing out of that crowd. If five three-year-olds can watch a baseball game without whining, any adult who can’t do the same should be… drinking, I guess.

Finally, we went out for dinner to the posh McCormick & Schmick seafood restaurant. C. ordered the child-size fish & chips, and received a platter with enough fries to choke a horse. I can only imagine that the adult portion would be enough to choke an animal large enough to eat the horse. By contrast, I ordered a Crab, Avocado, and Mango Salad (sounds good, right?), at a cost of fourteen dollars and eighty-five cents, which consisted strictly of Crab, Avocado, and Mango chunks not large enough to choke anything. Salad… they keep using that word, but I don’t think it means what they think it means.

As I write this, Jen and Anna are again occupying each other for the nightly power struggle that is bedtime. And me, I’m trying to recall if there’s some lumber in the garage that will allow me to make some sort of shelf that would allow watching of the DVD player while sitting in the tub. Happy Father’s Day.