Dad and I went to see Star Wars III last night. A few years ago I stopped giving my parents presents for Father's Day and Mother's Day. Now we go on adventures instead. Mom and I have been to the ballet and basketball games. Dad and I typically do baseball, with a few Star Wars exceptions.
My birthday was Saturday. 27. At the end of the day you're another day older, and all that jazz. There were family festivities on Sunday in dual celebration. While toasting to Mother's Day around the family dinner table, my father noted that there weren't enough mothers around the dinner table. My sister and I cut each other a look across the table and shared a moment.
Nothing can bring two sisters together like the adversity of parents who wish to be grandparents.
I'm going to rant on about sad things for a bit. If you don't want to deal with it, don't read it. I totally understand. I wouldn't write it if I didn't need to get it out.
So my dad gave me an awesome compliment yesterday. (I bet he didn't know it was going to show up here, but hey, that's the danger of having a kid for a writer. I keep threatening that I'm going to write a book about the family one day. So far they've escaped okay.)