The crappest Fathers Day present ever – apparently

Yes, so a bit late to this party but Sunday was Fathers Day.  Not my shining moment in the gift department.

I thought long and hard about what creative and innovative pressie I could come up with – the standard singlet and shorts idea is getting really, really old despite the fact that these items are worn year round regardless of the temperature outside or the wind chill factor.  [I am guaranteed a text or two after the soccer games at 9am at Christison Park when people show up in singlet, sans jacket and are happily frolicking around abusing the referee while others are rugged up like snow bunnies – holding their piece mind you.]

My brilliant idea (which was the idea of a very talented fellow blogger a while back) was this:

The offensive threesome. Not so “Happy”.

Yes – Garden Gnomes.  Because everyone needs company whilst gardening and bearing in mind that the lawn in the back of the house has been re-grassed three times, a considerable amount of time is spent there.  Alone.  But not anymore.

Happy had barely made it out of the gift bag and tissue wrap when the phrase “this is stupid, I don’t want these in my garden” was uttered.  Like a good wife on Fathers Day I held my tongue for all of 60 seconds before saying something about ungrateful and buttholes and where I imagined the gnomes could go.  Before stomping out, temper aflame, to the gym.

Support was not forthcoming from the crew there either who initially thought I was joking (about the nature of the gift).  Then there was a stunned silence.  And then there was laughing.  For ten minutes.  There might also have been mutterings about sympathy for my poor husband.  But the real kicker was the comment that my gnomes to him were akin to a breadmaker for Mothers Day.  I’m not getting that analogy at all.  Not at all.

On my return two hours later, I noticed Happy and Bashful were entrenched in the garden under a yukka tree but Doc was nowhere to be seen.  Enquiries led to the confession that Doc was being re-gifted for his father*.  Re-gifted -say what?????  To his father who doesn’t have a garden.  But this, my friends, was beside the point at that stage.  I had a random thought about taking all three onto the drive and having a smash fest but I realise this is not the role model I’m trying to be for the young ladies in my care.  And the neighbours just might have noticed – with all the smashing and screaming there would have been.

I then used my words (which we teach the children to do at an early age) and said respectfully that the family (Happy, Bashful and Doc) should stay together.  (If you believe this – there’s a fool born every minute).

So perhaps I am not your go-to person for Father’s Day gifts but would love to hear about your successes (and failures).  More about the failures please – I’m hanging out for something here!

*His father was re-gifted a bottle of Bailey’s.  Much better. Much, much better

And check out my most awesome Father’s Day card – nailed it here – yes?

Thieving Meerkats – better than Gnomes?


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