fabric paint, ferns, and fathers' day

It's Fathers' Day, but I'm afraid we don't stand too much on ceremony around here. We had planned to go to a baseball game, but then J wound up going to one on Friday night, after which he declared he did not want to watch our pathetic Pittsburgh Pirates lose twice in one weekend. Fair enough. I did whip up waffles and strawberries for breakfast by paternal request, but other than that, today is mostly about household chores for us.

Yesterday I managed a few hours of blissful communion with my fabric paints, even though Iris decided not to accept our generous offer of a nap. I stamped these shirts with ferns using two shades of green fabric paint mixed liberally with white (I hope they won't fade back to black in the wash). One is for Iris' best friend Anya, and since I happened to have two little black T-shirts and plenty of paint, I made one for Iris too.



Here is the back of Anya's shirt:



Then I got to use every singe one of my letter stamps and every single color of my paints on this formerly plain white shirt:



Which unfortunately doesn't stand up to close scrutiny – can you spot the mistake?

I also decorated several pair of Iris' brand-new big-girl panties, but it seems like a bad idea to post pictures of one's child's underwear online (alas sigh grumble), so I won't.



Since it IS Fathers' Day, a final note. This little item – "Step up – I'm a stair/Or sit down – I'm a chair" – was J's when he was a child. His family saved it and now it is used by Iris. J, I love that you pass along to our daughter the best of your own happy childhood, and of course I mean much more than things. I'm thinking of Iris sitting on the counter while you make our dinner, learning what all the ingredients are and accepting as a given that Daddy is the family chef. Or going to the park and throwing her little rubber ball up at the basketball hoops, trying to make free throws like you. When I was in Newport, a colleague mentioned that she did not plan to have children because she could not count on her boyfriend to lift a finger to help, and, furthermore, that this was the case with all the men she knew. I am sure my face must have betrayed my shock and dismay. J, we should not have to describe ourselves as lucky to have a husband and father who is as as kind, as playful, as capable, as convinced of and utterly confident in us as you are, but we are. Oh how lucky we are.

Happy Fathers' Day to families everywhere.