I made him his body weight in bacon for breakfast, and as per his request he's spending the afternoon smoking some ribs in the backyard. I'm very amused by the juxtaposition of the manly-man smoker in the sea of toys. I call this one "The Symbol of Virility" and if they ever have a gallery full of crappy cell phone photography, you'll be able to say you knew me when...
Our appointment with the fertility specialist is tomorrow and he needs to bring a specimen. Which means he doesn't get freaky sex as part of his Father's Day gift. Poor bastard! Some day the next kid will read this post and he/she will just about die of shame. And I will laugh, because why would you have kids if not to laugh at them?
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