I told Abby last night when I was putting her to bed that I wanted pancakes in bed this morning for Father’s Day. Because of Isabelle, I had to get up and then I heard Abby trying to get Jennifer to make blueberry muffins instead of my pancakes. Jennifer went ahead and made both. However, before she could pour my pancakes, Isabelle started crying and I had to make my own. Oh, well. At least I got my pancakes. They weren’t in bed and they weren’t made by someone else, but thus is life as a dad in Frenchville.

The girls got me an edger for while I’m mowing the lawn. I must not have been doing a good enough job with the weed whacker.

Happy Father’s Day to my dad. Thanks for coming over and watching Abby and Emily while we were busy dealing with Isabelle’s birth last week. We’ll see you again at Christmas.