This was about the best Father's Day ever. Of course, my daughter makes every day great (as does my wife), but this one was a doozie.

My daughter turned three in April, so she's able to remember stuff from the night before (like when her mother tells her to come in and say "Happy Father's Day Daddy.") That was nice. She climbed in bed with us and let me watch the last 15 minutes of nascar: 360 on tape, and then it was downstairs for my presents. I got a kick ass card, a book of photos of my Lauren being cute, and 25 minute video of pictures put to music that basically covered my daughter's entire life with us so far.

I know. Those video things sound dumb. But they are not only NOT dumb, they make your family room very VERY dusty. So does a three year old asking "What wrong, Daddy?"

Sunday was also a day of eat whatever I wanted, so it was Mickey D's for breakfast. We took an 11am trip to the pool for the second day in a row and had a delightful time with Mr. Pete's dad, Miss Pat and Little Pete as well as the in-law neighbors and half of their kids.

We had sammiches and a cold beer at noon on an 85 degree Georgia spring day, had quite a few laughs, and headed home at around 1pm.

Lauren fell asleep on the couch at about 1:01pm and was done for two hours.

That was my time for cooking prep, a little light cleaning in the kitchen and watching the races while the wife and sister-in-law (S-I-L from now on), went to the store for that evening's slow cooked chicken and other fixin's.

I had several more beers throughout a delightful Sunday afternoon whose only hiccup was a little "accident" during the nap on the sofa. No big whoop. That's gonna happen. Besides, it was just pool water anyway.

Anyway, we played a lot and ran around a lot and had a great afternoon.

Because of the nap, we let Lauren stay up a little later than normal. Usually, she'd be in bed by 8pm and asleep by 8:05pm. At around 8:30pm or so while I was throwing a frisbee with the boys, I heard Lauren yell "Heather!!! The baby's in THERE!!!" and pointing to my wife's stomach.

It's like, after these many weeks of talking about it and talking about it that it hit. Right then. She was delighted.

And now, all she wants to do is talk to the baby by yelling into Molly's belly button or look into said belly button and try to see the baby. I help this along by telling Lauren that "I" can see the baby. Maybe she just needs to look harder.

Good stuff.

We are scheduled to find out what "it" is on July 6th, so I'll keep you posted. Unless I decide not to tell. It's Bobby Brown after all. (Figure it out. I can wait).

Also, I have started getting some pretty good submissions for names. I like that my one internets friend Ethel (from a previous blog) is trying to incorporate my screen name that I use for some messageboards. It's TMLRacing (Originally Todd Molly Lauren for TML), and she thinks that I can maintain my parental balance if we name this kid a name that starts with R.

So here are this week's nominees:

Ryan Patrick

Rachel Ann
Rachel Marie
Rachel Kathleen

And with Rachel, the Rachel version is much better than Rachael. That's too much like Michael and Michael = wacko jacko, and that is bad.

See? She's really giving this some thought and putting real work into it. I only wish the rest of you cared enough to help so we don't make a mistake and name our kid Wendy or Richard (I think the name Dick Burger automatically makes you a homicidal maniac, but I can't be sure).

Keep those cards and letters coming. The name suggestion game is one of my favorites.

Oh, and one more thing. If any single solitary one of you (I am talking to my friends and family) watch that fucking sociopath Jennifer Wilbanks aka "the runaway whore" on TV tonight (I won't mention the network or show), then you are disowned. Forever. This madness must stop.
Until next time....