I haven’t confirmed the history here, but I’m going to go ahead and assume that Father’s Day comes after Mother’s Day because hey, how the hell are we supposed to know how much trouble to go to? Let’s gauge just what can be expected based on the facts…
You let the kids pick it out. They chose a keychain with my name on it (bonus points for correct spelling) and a suite of raspberry scented body care products that will likely outlast the apocalypse. Well, except the “fragrance mist” which the three year old reclaimed for herself and spilled all over her comforter leaving her bedroom smelling like the backstage of a strip club.
Expect that we’ll undertake the same experiment. You’ll likely end up with a hot sauce sampler and three pounds of batteries.
A homemade coupon book
I’ll promise to stop signing my emails “Tim Riggins Forever” and a throw in an “I won’t make that face when you load the dishwasher like it’s actually a hamper for one whole month” policy.
A weed whacker
How good were they? Good enough to hide from the kids? Or did you snatch a cellophane wrapped box of sadness off the pitifully empty shelves of a poorly lit Rite-Aid? Expect a six-pack of a quality dependent on your offerings. Handmade sea salt caramels? Here. Have a local craft brew. A Whitman’s sampler? Hope you enjoy cracking open a lukewarm Bud Light Lime.
Slippers (I’ve never worn slippers.)
A tie (You work from home in your boxers.)
This has a wide array of possibility. When chosen with careful consideration for the collection I already have, you’ve done good. This bodes well for you as you will likely win this year’s unspoken gift-off. If you bought a charm for a bracelet I don’t even own, well, you’ve always been more giving than observant. (I win.)