Hey, I love a good caper.

Father’s day started with my first breakfast in bed. Yes I know, almost forty-five and never had breakfast on a small table while lounging. I could get used to it. Aside from the great breakfast he made of eggs and toast and leftover chicken (my fave), the boy was clearly up to something because he had to tell me what to wear for the day.

When I turned 42 she threw a surprise party for me at a public park. I’m not a big birthday party person, and she knew it so instead of getting the family together at a disclosed time and place, she used an outdoor concert and a typical routine to trick me into having a good time. It was a great birthday, even though I was shocked at all the white lies and weird coincidences that led us there.

They still enjoy tricking me, although this time it wasn’t so much a trick as a surprise. For Father’s Day it was a blind-folded mystery trip to an undisclosed location after the boy tied on a bandana and almost let me fall down the stairs as he guided me to the car.

I love the spot they picked. No matter how many times we see it, the Spokane river seems so powerful and scary. Really impressive. Also I’m not sure how I managed to get a decent photo of myself with that bandana on, I couldn’t see a thing.