Happy Fathers' Day

Today was, as far as I'm concerned, my first Fathers' Day as a father. Obviously, it's my third Fathers' Day since Siena was born in September 2003. But this was the first time that Siena could actually understand that there was a day called Fathers' Day, that I'm her father, and that accordingly we should do certain things, like wish Daddy and Pop-Pop and PawPaw a happy Fathers' Day. We celebrated with a lovely picnic in Marina Del Ray and an outing to see Cars, but none of that's particularly blogworthy. What is worth your time, however, is a recounting of Siena's lingering lack of clarity on the concept.

So you might celebrate Fathers' Day by getting Dad a gift, right? Of course. So I go out to a writing workshop on Saturday, and get home around 3:30. When I get home I look for Siena, to kiss her hello, but she finds me first. She runs up to me and, before I can get out a word of greeting she blabs, "We got you a present!" And not in a whisper, like Mommy's keeping it a secret but I love you so much, Daddy, I just had to tell you. No, she yelled this like the news itself was the gift. Before I could stop laughing she marches over to the linen closet, points in the general vicinity of the top shelf, and proclaims, "It's up there!"

When I stopped laughing, I tried my best to explain that you keep gifts a surprise until you're ready to give them. She listened patiently, but at least twice more before going to bed she interrupted whatever was going on with the announcement "We got you a present!"

What was all the fuss about, you ask? A framed photo of Daddy and Siena at the Notre-Dame/Navy game at the Meadowlands in October 2004. And that was a surprise.