WEDNESDAY
“Hi kiddo, what’s up?”
“Hey Dad, just calling to ask what can I give for Father’s Day this Sunday?”
“Oh, gee, thanks, but Father’s Day’s actually the following Sunday.”
“…Dangit!” <CLICK>
“Hello?... This kid, I’m telling you….”
THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY
“Hi kiddo, what’s up?”
“OK, for real this time: what can I give you for Father’s Day this Sunday?”
“Heh-heh, right, yeah – you don’t have to give me anything: your existence alone is present enough for me.”
“Oh come on!”
“You know, your mother and I try to give you an easier life than we had, and yet you insist on undermining that at every opportunity.”
“I can’t just not give you something on Father’s Day! It’s up there with birthdays – gifts are obligatory, or else you might as well quit the entire family!”
“What?”
“Please, just tell me you want something that you’d never get for yourself: concert tickets – a motorcycle – a football team?!”
“<Sigh> Fine, you can get me… socks.”
“….”
“….”
“Socks.”
“Yeah, the ones I have are getting worn out and I need new ones for pickleball. The white athletic kind, you know, that I can wear with my sneakers and pull up over my calves.”
“….”
“….”
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you.”
“You can be a bit dramatic, but new socks really are what I would like.”
“Very well, Father: if socks are what you want, then socks are what you shall get.”
“Why does that sound like a threat?”
SUNDAY
“Happy Father’s Day!”
“Hiiii… What’s… all… this?”
“Socks! Just like you wanted!”
“But you’re trucking in so many bags here – how many pairs did you get?!”
“A year’s supply, so now none of them will have a chance to wear out!”
“Oh my… thank you?”
“Certainly! Nothing’s too good for MY FATHER ON FATHER’S DAY!”
“Just one more thing.”
“Anything!”
“Put all of them away somewhere before your mother sees them.”