My Father’s Day gift this year was carte blanche.
“We can do whatever you want to do today,” my wife said as we got out of bed.
I decided that we should start with a matinee screening of Toy Story 3. Elias loves watching Toy Story (we have two copies on VHS, in case one craps out), and even though he lost his shit about 30 minutes into Up, forcing us to flee a crowded theater, I thought this would be different. He recognizes the Toy Story characters and he’s almost a whole year older.
No dice.
About 45 minutes in, he started squirming in my lap and chirping “Let’s go home,” and “Let’s go back to the Subaru.” Rather than try and fight through another ten minutes, bribing him with M&Ms, we left the theater and opted for a drive to Boulder. Elias loves the outdoor Pearl Street Mall—it brims with buskers, kids, and stuff to climb on—and a walk sounded nice.
As soon as we parked the car, Elias announced that he needed to “poop,” so I had him lean into a tree and take his first, upright outdoor piss. That—along with Arius rolling over from his back—took care of my father’s day memories, but Nicole and I were exhausted and the day was still feeling like a bit of a wash.
Once turned loose on the mall, Elias tested our endurance, running zig-zag across the brick walkway and refusing to hold our hands as we crossed busy streets. We were both seconds away from throwing in the towel when were heard the violins.
A pair of high school-aged boys (one recently accepted to Julliard, their little sign said) stood opposite a smattering of kid-friendly climbing rocks rapturously playing a favorite Beethoven tune. Elias stopped, his arms dropped to his sides and he watched in silence. When they finished playing, he clapped enthusiastically and yelled out, “encore, encore!” Well, he said “more” anyway.
And more they played. Elias took turns watching from the front row and from a rock near the edge of a gravel pit. I stood on a small footbridge watching him, thinking to myself that I might be witnessing the formation of a memory. The particulars will be grayed away by time, but Elias might always harbor a fond, indelible memory of sunshine, violins and a large warm rock.
It was a very satisfying Father’s Day after all.
Then the duo played slimmed down version of “Nearer My God to Thee” and it was time to go home.
