First time I get to be the Object of the holiday instead of just a participant. It started with my father calling the house at 8:30 AM, crying like he just got out of STEEL MAGNOLIAS, wanting to be sure he was the first to wish me a happy Father's Day and to tell me how proud he was of me.
Now THAT is the way to begin a great Father's Day.
The weekend was a blur of Guitar Hero II tournaments, bean-bag throwing (thanks to Guest Blogger Jason's HAWESOME housewarming gift), playing "freeze tag" with my nephew, and loads of barbecue. The Missus took a shot of me with the NFU in my new "Dad" uniform:
The boy continues to get bigger and more wonderful. Every little thing seems like a revelation the first time he does it. This morning as I was holding him he let out what can only be described as a monumental amount of gas before looking at me and laughing. I swear to the powers on high he cackled and then, maybe realizing he was far too young to be laughing already, abruptly stopped, opened his eyes wide, and burped.
Never a prouder moment. Happy Father's Day, everybody.