slyc_willie
Captain Crash
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2006
- Posts
- 17,732
For the last six years, I have been able to enjoy not one (my birthday being "the one"), but two days out of the year in which I have a built-in excuse for being lazy and selfish. I'm a humble person by nature and prefer being the giver in a relationship. But even I have to admit it feels nice to be pampered now and then.
This was one of those days.
I got to sleep in -- a rarity -- and was then treated to breakfast in bed around 10 a.m. Bacon, eggs, toast, milk. Pretty standard fare, but my wife and daughter actually cooked them well this time
My daughter gave me a hand-painted card depicting her and I fighting "bad guys" together, at the end of which she had written, "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DADDY!" in great big red letters. For a guy who had practically given up on the idea of having a family more than six years ago, every time she calls me "daddy" is another jolt of life to my heart.
After that, we loaded up the car and headed out to Canyon Lake. Got a little too much sun, but playing in the water with my daughter was a lot of fun, even if I got minor heart attacks because she's really not a very good swimmer and the average depth of Canyon Lake is over forty feet. Still, experiencing my little girl's exuberance with her as she splashes about and laughs constantly is nothing short of revelatory.
All in all, the day resulted in a few cherished mental snapshots I've filed away in my brain's "Never Forget" folder.
But it wasn't over, yet.
My wife surprised me when we got home when a babysitter arrived at the door. I had begun to get suspicious when, after a few hours at the lake, my wife began giving hints that we should be leaving soon. I guess I was having too much fun to notice the tells.
Anyway, the babysitter shows up, after my wife tells me we should change to "go out and grab something." I figured that was my cue to pick a restaurant. Nope. Instead, she tells me to head downtown. "We have to get there before the game starts."
"Game?"
And then it hits me. I've been so busy that I'd forgotten about the Spurs playoffs. I'm a fan -- I love my Spurs, always have -- but I'm not so obsessive about them that I have to watch every game and shut out my family if the game's on. More than half the time, I don't even watch the games. But I do follow my boys' progress. I knew this was the final round, Spurs vs. Heat, the rematch from last year in which we should have won the title.
Turns out this was game five, and the Spurs were 3 and 1. If they won tonight, that was it: victory number five. The Drive for Five would be complete.
And it was. Holy hell, what a great game. Our seats were crappy, way up in the nosebleed section, but I didn't care. It had been years, many years, since I had been to a game. I was literally on the edge of the uncomfortable plastic seat as my boys executed their usual artistic dance on the court. I cringed a little at first because the Heat got out to an early lead, but by the half, the end result seemed fixed.
My Spurs won their fifth championship title. And I was there. No, I didn't get any autographs
Leaving the game was hell . . . or, well, it should have been, considering how long it took to get home. But getting road head while inching forward in traffic just sort of mitigates the frustration. Despite the tinted windows in my wife's car, there were several people who saw what was going on. I didn't care; neither did my wife. In fact, at one point she actually lifted her head and waved to someone before going back down.
We finally got back home a little over half an hour ago. I went in to check on my little girl. She sleeps hard, when she finally goes to sleep, so I just planned on giving her a little peck. But then she surprised me by, still with her eyes closed, raised her hands for a hug, gives me a kiss on the cheek and tells me, "Happy Birthday, daddy." Okay, so she got the wrong day. But the sentiment was still there.
As I said . . . Best. Father's Day. Ever.
This was one of those days.
I got to sleep in -- a rarity -- and was then treated to breakfast in bed around 10 a.m. Bacon, eggs, toast, milk. Pretty standard fare, but my wife and daughter actually cooked them well this time
My daughter gave me a hand-painted card depicting her and I fighting "bad guys" together, at the end of which she had written, "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DADDY!" in great big red letters. For a guy who had practically given up on the idea of having a family more than six years ago, every time she calls me "daddy" is another jolt of life to my heart.After that, we loaded up the car and headed out to Canyon Lake. Got a little too much sun, but playing in the water with my daughter was a lot of fun, even if I got minor heart attacks because she's really not a very good swimmer and the average depth of Canyon Lake is over forty feet. Still, experiencing my little girl's exuberance with her as she splashes about and laughs constantly is nothing short of revelatory.
All in all, the day resulted in a few cherished mental snapshots I've filed away in my brain's "Never Forget" folder.
But it wasn't over, yet.
My wife surprised me when we got home when a babysitter arrived at the door. I had begun to get suspicious when, after a few hours at the lake, my wife began giving hints that we should be leaving soon. I guess I was having too much fun to notice the tells.
Anyway, the babysitter shows up, after my wife tells me we should change to "go out and grab something." I figured that was my cue to pick a restaurant. Nope. Instead, she tells me to head downtown. "We have to get there before the game starts."
"Game?"
And then it hits me. I've been so busy that I'd forgotten about the Spurs playoffs. I'm a fan -- I love my Spurs, always have -- but I'm not so obsessive about them that I have to watch every game and shut out my family if the game's on. More than half the time, I don't even watch the games. But I do follow my boys' progress. I knew this was the final round, Spurs vs. Heat, the rematch from last year in which we should have won the title.
Turns out this was game five, and the Spurs were 3 and 1. If they won tonight, that was it: victory number five. The Drive for Five would be complete.
And it was. Holy hell, what a great game. Our seats were crappy, way up in the nosebleed section, but I didn't care. It had been years, many years, since I had been to a game. I was literally on the edge of the uncomfortable plastic seat as my boys executed their usual artistic dance on the court. I cringed a little at first because the Heat got out to an early lead, but by the half, the end result seemed fixed.
My Spurs won their fifth championship title. And I was there. No, I didn't get any autographs
Leaving the game was hell . . . or, well, it should have been, considering how long it took to get home. But getting road head while inching forward in traffic just sort of mitigates the frustration. Despite the tinted windows in my wife's car, there were several people who saw what was going on. I didn't care; neither did my wife. In fact, at one point she actually lifted her head and waved to someone before going back down.
We finally got back home a little over half an hour ago. I went in to check on my little girl. She sleeps hard, when she finally goes to sleep, so I just planned on giving her a little peck. But then she surprised me by, still with her eyes closed, raised her hands for a hug, gives me a kiss on the cheek and tells me, "Happy Birthday, daddy." Okay, so she got the wrong day. But the sentiment was still there.
As I said . . . Best. Father's Day. Ever.
from the good little witch.
