This past Sunday, we – along with the rest of America – celebrated Father’s Day. Since Dean doesn’t do breakfast until around lunchtime, we couldn’t make him breakfast in bed. And I don’t drink coffee so I don’t really know how to make it, so the next best thing was hitting up Starbucks to get something special for my baby daddy.
The kids and I snuck out of the house at 7:30 – Dean was surprisingly still asleep – and headed 2 miles down the road for the liquid goods.
As we pulled out of the neighborhood, Brooks asked, “Mom, I’m hungry, can Landon and I get something for breakfast at Starbucks?”
“This day is about celebrating dad and doing special things for him – unlike most of our weekends, today isn’t about you and Landon. It’s only a few minutes down the road, we can make you some breakfast when we get back.” I replied.
Of course, my witty 6 year old had his own thoughts on that: “Well, Landon and I are going to be dads one day, so today SHOULD be about me, Landon and Dad!”