Friday Flashback: Hugh’s First Father’s Day
One fine Sunday morning in June of 1995, I awoke early and said to myself, “Self, today is Father’s Day; wouldn’t it be cool to find out we are knocked up today, of all days?” and, myself said “Word”.
So, I meandered down the hallway to the bathroom and performed the necessary test and, when two lines showed up in the results window less than thirty seconds later I said to myself, “Oh, shit” to which myself replied “WORD”.
After taking a few minutes to gather my thoughts, thoughts like “How the HELL did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened but, what the hell? It was supposed to take several months to accomplish, it wasn’t supposed to happen on our first try, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod….what have we done?! What the hell are we going to do with a babeeee?!”
You know, the usual.
And, after contemplating-and discounting-a trip down the hall to the kitchen where the brown paper bags were stored; I managed to catch my breath and to calm my racing heartbeat enough to allow myself to stand. Then, I scurried back down the hallway to our bedroom where I quietly got dressed, quickly located a pair of shoes (note: not a matching pair of shoes but, a pair nonetheless because there were two) and I made a mad dash to the nearby grocery store where I managed to snag one of the last available Father’s Day cards from the shelf.
Back at home, I scrawled a sappy missive inside the card which, I would repeat here but, you know, some things are sacred. Ok, fine, I believe it went something like Happy Father’s Day. Yep. You knocked me up.
Or, words very close to that effect and then, I gathered the card and the positive pregnancy test and I awoke Hugh from a sound sleep because, there is no finer way to mark one’s first unofficial Father’s Day than by rousing one from a deep slumber by waving a urine-soaked stick under one's nose like some sort of realllly fucked-up smelling salts.
Of course, once he was awake enough to comprehend the message that I was giving him, the celebration started in earnest. There may have been tears.
So, this Sunday we will mark Hugh’s fourteenth official Father’s Day with a BBQ, his favorite dessert and a trip to the movies to see Toy Story 3 because, all these years later; we totally know how to party.
No pee-stick required.