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I've written previously about the difference between Mother's Day and Father's Day, namely that on Mother's Day the moms get pampered all day, but on Father's Day the dads run around with the kids and at some point grill food for everyone.

That's all fine and good, but I want it all. I want the grilled food and the pampering. I'm a new dad, dammit! Recognize!

Julie recognizes. Yesterday she sent me to a spa to get a massage. While there, I also sat in the sauna for awhile and then showered using the fancy spa liquid soaps under the giant spa shower head. After that, I went to the salon for a haircut. Later that day, we went out for sushi, and Lyla generally behaved herself. And that night, a buddy and I sat on the roof of Brit's Pub downtown and just hung out.

The brilliance of yesterday was that it wasn't technically Father's Day, so the activities away from Lyla felt just fine, not like I was shirking the family part of Father's Day. Today is the more traditional celebration: grilling at my sister-in-law's place with Julie's side of the family and dinner later with mine.

So it's been a spectacular Father's Day, but I've decided to rename it. It's now Father's Weekend.



Oh, and as for my own dad, his gift was a no-brainer. I'm taking him to get a massage.