The Most Important Day Of The Year

My fantasy Fathers Day…

“Good afternoon! Happy Father’s Day!” my family will grin at me as I emerge from the bedroom. The young kids will race at me nearly, but not quite, bowling me over with their huggles and my wife will be standing behind them, freshly brewed coffee in one hand and a plate of heart disease in the other.

“They didn’t have any shortcut bacon left at the deli, so I’m afraid there’s a fair bit of bacon fat on your rashers.” she’ll say to me. “And I couldn’t find the wholemeal bread, so I’ve given you a couple slices of white sourdough, grilled in olive oil and rubbed with garlic.”

“And if I’m not mistaken, that’s a hash brown beneath the mountain of mushrooms in butter,” I’ll accuse her as I take the plate to the table. “And a pork sausage, baked beans and…is that a lamb chop?”

“Sure is. Plus I’ve fried the tomatoes in bacon fat, just the way you like and that’s baby spinach under the poached eggs.”

“You know how I love my greens with a fry up,” I’ll acknowledge. “Keeps it healthy.”

“Dad? Can we give you your presents now?” Miss9 will ask.

“How about you parade them in front of me while I tuck into this wonderful breakfast Mummy has made for us all.”

“Oh, that’s all for you, Bruce,” Tracey will call from the stove. “They ate breakfast this morning.”

“But that means I don’t have to share my breakfast with any kids!” I’ll happily complain.

“Here you are, Dad,” Master8 will say, struggling into the room with a carton of beer.

“It’s half empty,” I’ll notice.

“We’ve already filled the fridge up for you so they’re nice and cold,” Miss6 will say, dragging yet another carton into the room.

“Kids!” Tracey will admonish as she brings me a second cup of Joe and removes the empty coffee mug to the sink. “There’s no reason to bring all the cartons of beer into the kitchen. Just put that one back with the others.”

“So what’s the plan for the day?” I’ll ask chewing a mouthful of cholesterol.

“Well, after breakfast I thought we’d start things off by not mowing the lawn,” Tracey will say.

“What? All day?”

“That’s right. And then there’s the vacuuming and hanging the washing which I think you shouldn’t touch. Plus the car really needs a wash, so we’ll add that to the no-go list as well.”

“But that means I’ll have nothing to do all day except-”

“-watch movies on the lounge. Yep. I hope you don’t mind. Plus the kids have asked if they could please, please watch Groundhog Day with you again.”

“We could watch it twice in a row,” Miss9 will call from the fridge, where she’s removing vegetables to try fit another six-pack in the beer crisper. “Then it’d be like we were caught in our own Groundhog Day. That’d be fun!”

“And then later,” Tracey will whisper in my ear, “when the kids are in bed, I’ll give you my present. I’ll give you a hint: think blue.”

“Blue…blue…blue. Oh, I think I know!” I’ll say excitedly.

“Yep,” she’ll say, nibbling on my lobe. “I’ve made you a cheese platter for after dinner. Blue cheese, vintage cheddar, Premiums, quince paste and a pear. All for you. Happy Fathers Day.”

And I’ll happily sit back on my lounge watching movies with my kids and drink to that – the whole glorious day long.

Who knows? Maybe this year all my Fathers Day dreams will come true…

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