16 June 2014
It takes more than rain and strep throat to kill our Father's Day buzz. We were all over this holiday like white on rice. Full breakfast INCLUDING BREAKFAST MEAT? Check! Totally adorable homemade presents? Check! Attempting to let Brent sleep in but girls jumping on him while flapping around adorable homemade presents? Check!
Mimi was entirely sick of Father's Day by about 9am. "Why do I not get a day of MY OWN? Why does it ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ABOUT DADDY!" To which we keel over, simply keel over like trees cut down in the forest--thwack!--and laugh ourselves silly until we are flopping on the deck like fish. We may have even blacked out a little. Possibly the paramedics came. Because it's all about daddy you know.
But Mimi ended up taking a two hour nap after lunch, so we got the last laugh. Also: best Father's Day present from a 5yo ever.
For dinner, there was MORE MEAT, big manly chunks of it. Or actually petite filet mignons. That's manly right? Well anyway they're my favorite and guess who does the grocery shopping. We also had beet salad. Which leads me to one of my favorite conversations with Brent ever, where he is talking about Dr. Dre Beats headphones and I am talking about my favorite vegetable, the best vegetable on earth, beets.
Brent: Beats. I don't get it.
Me: What's not to get? They're awesome.
Brent: They seem overrated.
Me: Overrated?! I love them!
Brent: And overpriced.
Me: Where have you been pricing beets?!!
Brent: They had them at Costco. I tried them. Meh.
Me: MEH?!! Why didn't you tell me this before? Have you been pretending to like them?
Brent: Maybe they're popular for graduation presents or something.
We polished off the night with yelling at the girls who somehow managed to turn their rooms completely inside out, possibly while playing Tornado Girls With Everything Powers, one of their most adorablest games, but seriously girls when your play:clean ratio is nearing 0.2 you are DOING IT WRONG. Then we watched the Game of Thrones season finale and called the day a great success.