Daddy’s Day

It is very early on Father’s Day. The kids are still sleeping, and so is their daddy.

Tradition mandates that I make huevos rancheros for hubby’s breakfast in bed, served to him by his squabbling, eager fans. Huevos rancheros is not a good food to eat in bed, but we overlook the practicalities in favor of fun. We will give gifts to him and leave him alone with his runny eggs, beans and the Sunday paper.

How we spend our day is up to him. This is my revenge for making me decide what to do on Mother’s Day.

Tonight, we will grill steaks to a safe, sane temperature. Some garlic bread and spinach salad on the side should round out Father’s Day dinner nicely.

If any man deserves to be showered with adoration today, it is hubby. It is a blessing to watch him in-action with the kids. He is a hard-working provider, a source of wisdom and knowledge, a whimsical pal, a backyard chaser, a great role model for the boys, and my best friend. He is usually full of energy, enough to keep up with five small children and another waiting for his or her cue.

He is the brave warrior, they are his arrows. For now, they are riding around on his back squealing and laughing. Eventually he will launch them into the air, letting them go and watching them arc away. His greatest achievement will be seeing them pierce strong and substantial rocks, solid children who will grow to be solid adults with families of their own someday.