Knucklehead’s daughter had a birthday the other day. And he knew exactly how to play it:

I got nothing for you. So here’s what I’m going to do. On the way to pick you up at school today, I’m going to stop in a WalMart or Target or some other crappy, soulless corporate big box store and grab a bunch of crap made in China and throw some gift bags and tissue paper in the cart and pay for it and put it all together in the parking lot. The whole process is going to take less than 10 minutes.

It’s not that I’m not thoughtful, it’s that you’re seven. It doesn’t matter what I get, it’s going to end up at the bottom of your closet in two days.

Oh, the truth that is so painful! High School Musical digital camera that my daughter was so very excited about at Christmas? Hasn’t been used in weeks. Train set that my son got for his birthday? Track pieces get scattered around the house and used as makeshift swords not as the foundation for a intricate railway system. (Or course, he’s three, what did I really expect there?)

And really, do you remember what you got when turned seven? I mean unless it was a pony or a backyard swimming pool chances are you don’t remember the specifics of that birthday. But what we all remember is whether or not we were loved. Sometimes showing love happens in the form of plastic toys from China, but Lil Knuck will one day be able to look back and know that her Dad loved and cared for her and taught her the really important stuff life like:

golf course etiquette and a love of football and an appreciation for sarcasm and the proper timing of a punch line

See, it’s all good!