The list of things I want for Father's Day isn't very long.

1. A hug from my child
   
2. Breakfast in bed
   
3. Tickets to a baseball game
   
4. Beer

Sadly, I only got the last of those for my first. Which probably goes without saying, given the confluence of circumstances. Consider:

• Avery is yet too young to have motor control enough to lovingly wrap her arms around me;
  
• Sed had to work in the morning, thereby ruining any chance of my eating without getting up; and
  
• thanks to the Florida State League all-star game having been Saturday and the Devil Rays, Marlins, and double-A Jacksonville Suns all playing away games, there was no professional baseball in the entire state of Florida on Father's Day.

That doesn't mean I didn't have a good one. It just means that the entire universe didn't relocate its center point to my head for one Sunday in June. And honestly, it was sort of a training situation. Being a stay-at-home dad automatically means that I have to do the bulk of the doting -- it's right there in the job description. And my ladies' full-time gigs are tiring in themselves. One woman in my house spends all day elbow-deep in smegma and viscera, and the other one's only means of communication is to vary the pitch of her wailing.

Still, they take their time and ensure that I get a lot of it back. How can you not love a gesture like this?