Today, I am remembering my father who awakened us every weekend morning to the sound of a vacuum cleaner hitting my bedroom door. He sure loved those tracks in the pile carpeting.
Go see your daddy, or the man your mama told you was to be your daddy. Take him to a chain restaurant and let him order dessert. Get crazy, buy him a card or a clip-on neck tie.
I will spend my day watching Maury Povich break the news to all the new and unfortunate daddies. Congratulations- it is very most likely yours!
I am reminded of a few of my own complicated conversations about who may-or-may not be responsible for my delicate condition. But, childrun, you gotta remember it was the 1970s there was no way to be sure. Disco techs tend to lead to peeing on a stick and praying to Jesus.
But I digress....Because today is the day that makes all those awkward paternity tests worth it.
