You’d think I was a king. I woke today to beautiful girls all around me, bringing me food and drinks, rubbing my back and giving me gifts. Of course my son was involved too. My gifts were mostly homemade, but whether bought or not, they were exceptional.
Typical to most Father’s Days, I start expecting royal treatment; like I deserve it or something. Then sooner or later I ask my wife for something or another of royal nature, as I did again today. Like every other year, I got the same feisty answer. “You ain’t my father.” As if to say, “Your reign is limited buddy, so don’t get too excited.”
That feistiness gives me a sense of where she is at. When there is pain, there is no room for humor, spunk, wittiness, or anything like that. But today there was all of that. It was awesome. She was able to take a walk at a park, sit on the patio and chat, eat meals at the table, and fire off some pretty good remarks to keep me humble on this day that I have a tendency to get out of line.
This was a happy Father’s Day. And my favorite gift is a happy mother; my wife.