Today, Sarah decided it was Daddy Day. Unbeknownst to her (and it wouldn't have changed her plan one little bit anyway), he is DYING from THE WORST COLD IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. But did that stop him from giving Sarah the best father/daughter day possible? It did not. They had crepes for lunch, went to Toy Story 3 (Sarah got scared and insisted on leaving during a scene that she described thusly: "Mom, Buzz Lightyear had to have a time out" -- you can imagine her horror) and then spent the rest of the day at the pool. How do you beat that? I'll tell you how: you can't. Sorry, Other Dads. Tom won.
And I? I made this house submit, by god. I washed, folded and PUT AWAY (yes, I did!) seven loads of laundry (how do three people generate that much laundry? How? I will wear the same pair of shorts for three days running, so it ain't me). I swept the entire downstairs. I cleaned the kitchen. I watered the garden. I emptied the compost and took out the garbage and recycling. I put everything back where it belonged. And it was good.
At 6:00, Sarah and Tom made their return. Within moments, the house was garlanded with towels and strewn with sodden swimsuits and abandoned toys. But also filled with Sarah's delight and her stories of the day. And it was good.