Every year the Bug and I make something at school as a gift for Father’s Day. Usually colorful, sometimes edible, often unidentifiable, and always heartfelt. This year, in addition to the usual offerings, we gave Daddy a gift which, although inedible and unwearable, surpassed all expectations. We took him to watch Stock Car racing. In the rain.
For the uninitiated, this is an event where beaten up cars compete in a series of races for the unenviable privilege of entering a final ‘demolition derby’ – a fight to the death for cars which sometimes only have 2 wheels to begin with. Daddy has long been a fan. So off we set, camping chairs at the ready, for a bit of fun. Then it rained.
Personally I would have been happy to trudge back to the car and read my stack of ‘books for the journey’, but the boys donned waterproofs and settled in for the long haul. It being Father’s Day I emitted only the teeniest whine of objection and joined them in their vigil. Daddy is one lucky Father, I thought, making a mental note to recap this moment for him the next time I am in charge of the family DVD choice (High School Musical 2 not being his preferred viewing).
Daddy left the event feeling loved and indulged, and rain aside I have to confess to a secret liking for this sport. Don’t tell him though – I plan to milk this for weeks to come!
Poor old Mummy though, needs to learn a few lessons from her savvy daughter. It being Father’s Day she took over his usual job of hairwash night, and is currently cooking him dinner whilst he savours a glass of wine in front of a Kylie concert – c’mon Mummy, get with the programme!