My Report on Father's Day (A week late)

At church, there are proud dads that sit back on the bench with a leg bowed upon the other exposing their bony, argyle-covered ankles, with an arm slung across the back of the seat like they can just be comfortable anywhere. And proudest of all, dangling from neck, the craziest tie imaginable--purchased or homemade. Also true to form, are the little crafts and nifty poems and admittedly belated well-wishes for the occasion. Father's Day. A celebration simply true-to-form.
So here's my classic attempt to let the fathers in my life know I just love them.
DAD:
Dependable
Awesome
Dear
(Good Poem, huh?)
I've got plenty more:
I have a dad. He is pretty nice.
I have a husband who is a dad. He is nice also.
I have a dad-in-law. He is also nice.
I love all my dads and grandpas.
The end.
(See, I've always been good at Father's Days.)

This year, we called our dads and went as a little family of Daddy's Girls, escorted by our Resident Hero, to Fort Warden to play. It was spontaneous. We went after I made Jake hot-pastrami sandwiches on rye with shoestring french fries and soda pop. (That part was planned.) The sandwich had homemade coleslaw on it with brown mustard and swiss. It was pretty manly. And VERY yummy. And off we went, with nary a change of clothes for our two year old....
pants soaked. pants off...

Careful of the water-rush, another cruise ship is passed the lighthouse...
wondering if that diaper is doing its job. Yep. Full. Sand and water. Shirt? Soaked.
Don't worry. Because dads know how to save the day.
Practical. Effective. That's how dad's do it. Thank You! Love You! Priceless. That's how dads do it.