I was woken up at seven this morning when I could have done with a lie-in, but there wasn’t much I could do about it, because it was my daughter clutching a father’s day card for me. It’s not the only father’s day card I got from her. A few weeks ago, she made this for me at school:
It’s at the same time nice and concerning to have a window into my daughter’s head, and understand that she thinks her father wears glasses and a tie. Actually, it’s more concerning that her father has a tearful grimace on his face, ginger hair cut with the aid of a bowl, and is dressed like some sort of priest, and appears to be bleeding from both eyes, but perhaps we’ll assume that’s youthful optimism on La Serpiente’s part.
Today I was taken out to breakfast at Wild Honey, an all-day breakfast joint on Orchard Road, with some of the most amazingly comfortable seats I’ve ever sat in. I dined on eggs and then we went shopping for incredibly tight trousers for me. It turns out I cannot rock a pair of skinny white jeans, not that I ever could. Give me ten years and a mid-sized mid-life crisis and I’ll start acting like I think I can.
Still, we managed to throw down a couple of hundred dollars at Uniqlo, which means I now have trousers to wear that are not shorts, are not jeans, and are not overly-posh suit trousers, as imagined by a 2008 Hong Kong tailor (and hence someone with taste acquired through a time tunnel back to the 1970s). We went home, put the kids to bed, tried to nap, watched a bit of Labyrinth in honour of David Bowie (I can’t believe I was almsot ten years old when that film was released) and then took La Serpiente off to her music class.
She was well behaved and didn’t knock any other children over, but unfortunately she seems to have my sense of rhythm. You can’t have everything, I suppose. She’s also got a bit of a cold coming on, perfect timing with her birthday party on the way, which meant putting her to bed was hard, but she dropped like a stone, a stone full of children’s cough medication.
Now all that remains is for me to go out running for an hour in a thunderstorm, the perfect end to Daddy’s Day.