Here’s how it’s going to go down:
Bathroom doors will be closed.
Bathroom doors will remain closed.
There will be pancakes. And bacon.
Said pancakes will be filled with gluten. They will be topped with Mrs. Butterworth’s in all its high fructose corn syrup glory, as God and Monsanto intended.
There will be a whining-free hike in the outdoors. (see: pancakes, bacon)
There will be no injuries due to improper footwear or other hubristic notions.
There will be no side trips for shopping.
We’ll cool off at the outdoor pool at our club. Because I pay for it every month. And it would be profoundly stupid not to. And it’s time the short boss remembered that she loves swimming at the pool. Even if it’s not her idea.
The day will conclude with televised viewing of Game 7 of the NBA finals. Because the fools who dreamed up Father’s Day did not have the good sense to do it during football season.
The evening’s repast will be smothered in barbecue sauce.
Thank you for your cooperation. And I love you more than you’ll ever know too.
Especially if I can get five or six of these to actually happen.
© julian rogers | Juju Eye Communications