Father’s Day is taking a giant chasse to the left to make way for the annual of the Master Ferdinand Pre Party. It’s not his birthday, but those precious few days before. We have already had a fight about whether or not water guns are allowed and how big the water guns can be, about the purchasing/wearing of slings meant for carrying water balloons like peas in a pod close to the chest, the number of children/parents coming (Ferdinand is hopeful for upwards of 40 to 50/Jonathan would like to keep it closer to 8), and the menu.
Jonathan wants pesto. I am not serving pesto. The problem is, I have no comeback, no competition. All I can think of is do it yourself burritos and a birthday cake. Which could win, if only because I’m the cook.