Happy Father's Day!

I pretty much lump Father's Day in teh same category as Mother's Day, i.e., as nothing more than an erzatz holiday dreamed up by the eeeevil marketers of the Hallmark/FTD/Zales cabal and their minions. Nonetheless, I have learned to be sensitive to the genuine good will of the Llama-ettes when they attempt to come up with what they think I would like in order to mark the occasion.

Yesterday afternoon as we were driving home from time trials at the pool (yes, this summer Robbo enters that vast Undiscovered Country known as "Swim Team"), the eight year old said to me, "So, Daddy, what would you like for Father's Day?"

Suddenly I had a down-right inspiration.

"Sweetie," I said, "I can't imagine a greater present than just getting to be the father of you three girls. That's all I could ever want."

There was a small gasp from the passenger seat.

"Oh, Daddy," the gel said, "That's so beautiful."

Yup, Robbo can hit a nifty every now and again.

UPDATE: A nice FD. I spent the afternoon pottering around in the garden, ably assisted by teh Llama-ettes in pulling weeds from the path. Later, after I'd grilled up some steaks for dinner, the gels serenaded me with a couple of High-School-Musical-like songs they had written. After that, I introduced the elder pair to the Dook for the first time as we watched The Sons of Katie Elder together.