A few days ago, my husband asked me, “So, what do you want to do for Father’s Day this weekend?”
Shocked, I turned to look at him, “Father’s Day is this Sunday? It’s usually not this early in June, is it?”
“Yep, it’s this Sunday,” he answered, “Someone at work told me. I think I’d like roast beef for dinner.”
“Ooooooookay,” I said, still not sure if I wanted to believe him. I thought of checking a calendar to verify the date, but the week went by quickly and it just slipped my mind.
I busied myself with buying a card, notifying the kids that they needed to make their own Father’s Day cards the night before, and making plans for the rest of his special day.
On the morning of Father’s Day, the kids piled in our bed and we all gave him our cards. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad!” the kids exclaimed. “Happy Father’s Day,” I echoed. “To the best Dad around.” I handed him his gift—a new polo shirt that the kids picked out. My son promised his Dad a great shoulder massage later that evening. My daughter handed him a coupon for five free car washes.
It was a great morning. I offered to make the bed, filled his coffee cup, and whipped up a tasty batch of scrambled eggs. After breakfast, I left him on the couch to read the paper and went for a run. As I passed the golf course, I smiled as I noticed all the Dads enjoying their special day. “Nothing better than a game of golf on Father’s Day, is there?” I yelled as I ran by. The fathers seemed confused by my comment, but grinned and waved anyway.
We went on a picnic for lunch. My husband looked around us, "Gee, not too many Dads out here today, are there? That makes me sad. Dads should be celebrating with their families today."
I nodded my head in agreement, "I know. I’m so glad we recognize we have such a great Dad in our family." I leaned over to kiss him. It was a special moment.
Before dinner, I asked my husband, “So, are you having a terrific day so far?”
He smiled at me, “The best ever!”
“Did you call your Dad yet?” I asked.
“Oh, I’d better get on that,” he replied as he dialed his parents’ number.
“Hey Dad,” he said, “I just wanted to call to wish you a Happy Father’s Day!”
Long pause. “What?” he whispered into the phone. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“What is it?” I asked worried that something bad had happened on this special day.
He turned to look at me; his face pale—his expression guilty, “Uh, my Dad says Father’s Day is next weekend.”
“WHAT?” I yelled as he slowly placed the phone back in the receiver. I stood there for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You mean we have celebrated this entire day one week too soon?”
“Pretty much,” he answered as he started grinning.
“No wonder the guys on the golf course looked at me so strangely this morning when I wished them a Happy Father’s Day,” I said.
“Oh my gosh,” my husband added, “On Friday before I left work, I told my boss to have a Happy Father’s Day this weekend. He looked at me really weird. This is so embarrassing.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what,” I announced, “I am not re-doing this day again next Sunday. What’s done is done and I’d just like to again wish you a Happy FAKE Father’s Day!”
I’ve decided today that I’m pretty sure we may be the only family in history to accidentally celebrate a national holiday one week too soon. Let me know if there’s more families out there like us, but in the meantime, don’t contact me next Thursday—we’re celebrating the Fourth of July that day.
Wait … that is next Thursday, isn’t it?