Lea's 2-year-old birthday extravaganza—let's just call it All About Elmo—happened last night (this, despite my ongoing battle with pollen), but I was the one who received the best gift. My dad brought me a...ta-da...Jollibee baseball cap. Not that I'm a huge fan (though I will admit, as long as you don't tell anyone, to once eating two mango pies in one sitting) or anything. I am just deeply in love with the word 'Jollibee' and the accompanying logo. So Dads rule.
Which unearths another memory. In an uncharacteristic yet chivalric nod to, I don't know, medieval times, Andrew chose to ask my father for my hand. In a characteristic yet sexist nod to, I don't know, the 1950s, my dad's response was something like, "You realize you're going to have to buy all her shoes now, right?"
I could hang around all day, but I need to blow my nose.