A good Father’s Day was had by all.

I feel bad that I didn’t post something to honor Haus Meister or our fathers for all the public to see.  However, rest assured that Haus Meister had a good day, and that both grandfathers heard from us.  On the other hand, I didn’t post a thing for Mother’s Day, so why am I worried?

We let our hero sleep in (as much as is possible) and Rascal and I snuck out to the grocery store down the road for a few boxes of Krispy Kremes, a helium “Happy Father’s Day” golfing-themed balloon, and some batteries to charge the new r/c helicopter I/we bought him. Of course, when we got home, Rascal ran into the bedroom (where Princess and Dinosaur were just waking up–both had decided to sleep in with Daddy).  Trooper followed in pursuit of the balloon Rascal held (and relinquished to Dinosaur in order to begin on the doughnuts).

For the kids, the balloon was the biggest hit, or at least, the longest-lasting.  The doughnuts were fine in the morning but boy, Rascal did not need the added sugar.  Haus Meister was happy with all of his gifts (a hot dog roaster, a marshmallow roaster, a woodworking manual, and the helicopter).  He was able to spend the day relaxing with the family, as much as we’re able to relax around here. 😉  We are all so lucky and blessed to have him.

A special thing of note is that we were able to talk to both of our dads on Father’s Day.  I was thinking of mine just the other day and wished I had his ability to tell hilarious stories.  Or rather, to make commonplace stories hilarious.  Like the story of the dog my aunt owned when Dad was dating my mom.  The dog was apparently a man-hater, or at least it hated my dad.  That story just gets better with age.  I recalled another story he once told us about some pet turtles his family briefly owned (back in the day when you could buy baby turtles at a pet store).  They met an untimely end in the toddler hands of my uncle.  This story comes to mind every time Rascal asks me for a turtle– he’s wanted one ever since he saw a box turtle at the babysitter’s house.  Again, I’ve pretty much given you the bare-bones of it, but if you hear my dad tell the story, you’ll be laughing so hard you’re crying (while of course, feeling a pang of pity for the poor unsuspecting turtles).

Dad, you’ll have to tell Haus Meister and I the story again when we come up for the 4th.  I tried the other night and I couldn’t do it justice. 😉 Love you.

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