Having a child gives a whole new meaning to Mother’s Day. It used to be “Okay, I have to call my mother and send her a gift.” But now there is a mother right in your own house. That’s TWO cards, TWO gifts, but probably still only one phone call. Still it’s like twice the work.

A few days before Mother’s Day my wife said, “We don’t have to go out to brunch on Sunday. We can just stay home.” Obviously I then immediately started pricing brunches and checking availability for Sunday. When a woman says you or we don’t have to do something, you better get going and do it.

Our daughter made my wife a nice present at school and I bought her chocolate and some bath stuff. I’m not really sure what it was. I got it at the mall and it smelled orangey and citrusey.

As I was paying for it the girl asked me if I wanted to buy gift-wrap and a gift bag. I said sure. Then she asked me if I wanted her to wrap the gift for me.
“Of course.” I replied, like that was a ridiculous question. She noticed.
“Sometimes people want to wrap it themselves,” she explained.
“Are they men?”
She laughed and shook her head. Then she wrapped the gift.

Sure enough on Friday my wife said she changed her mind and did want to go out to breakfast on Sunday. But the prices for brunch were insane, like $30 a person for pancakes. So we went out but too a restaurant instead.

But going to a restaurant with a toddler is like playing a game of Russian Roulette. Sometimes good, sometimes… not so good and someone has to be drug screaming out of the restaurant. Then my wife went back and got our daughter.

But that didn’t happen this time. Sometimes you get a pleasant, uneventful day and I was thankful for it. Bella was good at the restaurant, Audge liked her presents, including the wrapping, and we relaxed the rest of the day. We even called the “other” Moms who are now called Grandmom and Nana.

Now when my wife asks me if I want to go out for breakfast on Father’s Day I’m just going to say, “Yes.” See how easy that was? Oh, and no one has a Father’s Day Brunch. What’s up with that? I like eggs benedict too, you know.