On Father’s Day Mister Mateo woke to a big fat present of new fishing goodies; a little gift I dreamt up because one of his latest wishes is to take my little Chee on fishing dates at the pond near our house. In his bucket-o-goodies, I included a Barbie fishing pole and life jacket for Lucia, bug spray, sunscreen, a new tackle box for him and a first aid kit. Ha! A first aid kit you ask? Yes. Because my memories of fishing include getting stuck with hooks; I imagine my little L needing a band aid if such a travesty occurs at her expense.
Later we went along for a ride, a ride in which I drove because, after all, it was Father’s Day. I hate driving, but again, it was Father’s Day. Guess where we ventured? Record Stores, oh my! GuestRoom on Western did not have both vinyls that the hubs desired, so we ventured down to Bricktown, (rhyme unintended). Two new records procured and a stroll through the bricked streets later, we headed back through Mid-town, up to Iron Starr where the fried okra might be the best I have ever had and the Choc Beer is deliciously cold.
Such a lovely family day and such joy to celebrate my husband, her daddy.
We love you, Mateo.