Last night, we took your dad out for Chinese food at The Mustard Seed restaurant at the mall. It was a miserable experience (although watching you eat anything in noodle form is always a good time), and all day long your dad has been clutching his stomach and acting like he's on the verge of death. While I think this Father's Day can still be considered an overall success, I wouldn't mention the phrase "Sweet and Sour Pork" to your dad any time soon.
Of course, the fact that his stomach was upset did not derail me from fixing cream cheese-stuffed french toast with peach compote and a side of fried eggs for breakfast.
I don't know how it happened, but somehow you got your shoulder through the strap of one of my grocery bags, and carted the bag behind you all morning like an explorer's backpack. Sometimes, you are just too cute for words.
We promised your dad that we would help him organize his wood shop today, so I sorted 8 jillion nuts and washers and sockets. By the end of the project, I wanted to start labeling all the containers with names like "doohickeys" and "thing-a-ma-bobs." Your dad built you a temporary swingset so you would have a place to hang out while we cleaned. You seemed to think this was pretty cool.
It's now storming outside - harder than I've ever seen it - so we're going to watch a movie and rest. And if your dad recovers later tonight - Mexican food for everybody!
Love,
Mom
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