Father's Day 2011

It is funny how our obligations to and relationships with holidays change throughout life. My first memories of Father’s Day are from when I was four or so and my “gift” to my Dad was to help him wash the car. Having now raised two children who were at various times four years old, I’m not sure how much of a gift that really was for my Dad; it was perhaps a better deal for my mom who got some free time while I had some bonding time with my paternal parental unit. As a teenager I struggled to find gifts for my Dad because as an officer in the Navy he was not home much. I didn’t know him very well and he didn’t know me. Now, some thirty years later, we have gotten to know one another pretty well, and we are very much alike. I sent my Dad a book and a pound of Texas Pecan coffee, two things that I would be happy to receive on any occasion that necessitates gift giving.

The one thing that I did not do this Father’s Day was to help the girls shop for Mike. First of all, they are not in close proximity and second of all, they are old enough to check the calendar and realize that they need to acknowledge the day without me nagging them. So, I didn’t. I do know that Offspring No. 2 was shopping last night at midnight. I’m not sure about No. 1. And, it is not my problem.

At our house, we have joined the realm of people who receive Mother’s and Father’s Day cards from their four-legged children. Technically, Adidas and Harley have a step-dog relationship with Weber. Although with Adidas, “top dog” in his world is whoever feeds him. Most of the time that is Weber so Adidas ignores the stepparent designation.

In the realm of some relationships are kind of complicated, is Harley’s relationship with Weber. In a post back in February of 2007, I told the story of Harley coming to live with us. At that time, I neglected what has come to be a rather ironic detail. I did receive a call from a friend at the local knit shop asking me if I wanted a tiny, freezing, abandoned puppy. The irony is that before this friend called me, she had called Weber’s ex-wife asking if they wanted the puppy. Obviously she said “No” and the rest is history . . .sort of. It seems though that the greater plan was that Harley was indeed to be in Weber’s life and she was destined to live here in Dallas. For this we are all very grateful!

"I love you, Dad!"

So how did the dogs and their dad spend Father’s Day? Doing something that they all love . . .sharing watermelon. Both Adidas and Harley “helped” Weber cut the watermelon, much in the same way that I helped my dad wash the car when I was four. They all had several bites of the melon just to make sure that it was indeed good. Though the process took longer than it probably should have, they all seemed to enjoy themselves.

He who cuts the watermelon gets the first bite.

He who whines the loudest, or helps the most, gets the second bite.

Patient girls finish last.

Good to the last drop!

Happy Father’s Day to all of you who have parented both two-legged and four-legged kids!