The Early Father's Day Goody Bag

Those flecks of gray in my hair and my thinning scalp tell a tale. Yes, I have children, although they're not exactly ankle-biters any more. They grow so fast, in fact; number 1 is now large enough to receive credit card applications in the mail (and, in the distance, I hear the thundering hooves of four horsemen). Perish the thought if they heard me use the word children, too. I can just about get away with calling them kids, and this year, they're pretty much old enough to do their own thing over the summer. #1 is heading off to a summer studio at art college, #2 is going to see her overseas grandparents (to make up for her sister doing that last year), and #3 is off on his Boy Scout summer camp. The logistics of this operation, getting them each where they need to be, are just phenomenal. Rest assured it means muggins here is going to be spend a lot of time in a little tin box on four wheels running up and down the interstates, and I just don't handle that too well. Maybe it's the difficulty to breathe air-conditioned air. Maybe it's motion sickness. Or, maybe it's simply because I can't depend on getting constant wi-fi access.

Pretty much, this is all happening next week, so Mom and the kids made their minds up yesterday to do Father's Day a little bit early for me. Last night, in fact. They came out to pick me up from work with a satisfying invitation. "Dad, we'll take you to eat anywhere you like tonight. Anything you want to eat."

"OK, then. Sushi."

"Well, anything you like except sushi. We were thinking you might like Cracker Barrel. But it's your choice Dad. Anywhere you like. Even if it's Cracker Barrel."

After several microseconds of deliberation, I unilaterally decided that I was going to do my own thing, and so we headed off towards Cracker Barrel. But we weren't going to go anywhere yet. I had stuff to open. Cards! Eldest knows; she gives me a card that deliberately avoids being mushy and sentimental (of course, until you open it). The Boy follows up with a good fart joke. This is all building up to #2's pièce de résistance, complete with matching stickers; "My Dad's The King of the Castle" and "I Love My Little Princess". Terms and conditions of the restaurant meal follow - we have to wear our matching stickers in the restaurant, and when I see her off next week from Atlanta airport. Who could resist?

But there's more. A sensational amount more, in fact, I'm thoroughly staggered by it all. Just take a look at the contents of my goody bag - a cornucopia of amazing things!

• Nintendo DS screen protectors: An absolute essential. I love my old-style Nintendo DS, even though The Boy waves his DS Lite around in front of me like some obviously-superior trophy. Mine was picked up second-hand for $20 and is obviously the worst for wear, because I sure give it one heck of a beating. Just a build-up, this one, for...
• Disgaea DS (Nintendo DS): I'm a big turn-based RPG fan (I love things like Fire Emblem and the Advance Wars games). I'm also a complete math nerd. So, after seeing Offworld describe it as a "quest for numerical orgasm" I just knew I had to have this game. Of course, it was absolutely nowhere to be found, until setting my resourceful offspring on the case. Again, this one's a build-up, for...
• Disgaea: Hour Of Darkness (Sony PlayStation 2): Yes, it's the same game, but on the PS2, and these titles have something of a cult following so it really is important to get a hold of them when you have the chance. I pretty much hate Sony and I'm not a big PlayStation fan; in fact the only reason we have one is from the utter frustration after being buried in so much crapware when we decided to buy a Nintendo Wii. The PS2 was cheap and there's tons of cheap stuff for it. The kids started their usual excuses, "yes, Dad, we know it's a PlayStation game" but again, this was a build-up for...
• Okami (Nintendo Wii): IGN's 2006 Game of The Year when it was on the PS2, ported to the Wii. I took one look at this game's visuals, in the style of Japanese woodcut and watercolor paintings, and simply thought they were gorgeous and were something I had to have. An important part of the game is to "paint" objects into the scenes using a "Celestial Brush". I honestly can't wait to give this one a try.

Enough video games already! How old am I supposed to be, anyway? (As old as I feel like being, of course). Unbelievably, a couple more grown-up gifts followed:

• Digital Voice Recorder: Lovely little gizmo this, seems it will let me record up to 444 hours of my dulcet tones. I'm constantly getting ideas for things to blog, particularly when I'm in the car, and typically I've been sticking them up on Twitter as some sort of online diary, ready for me to polish up into an article when I get back to a computer. I've also got this thoroughly bizarre notion that I'd like to have a go at writing a novel - again, this is one of those ideas that comes to me in the car, and I'm going to be in the car a lot this summer. Fantastic.
• Professional Super-Cardioid Dynamic Vocal Microphone: I have absolutely no idea what any of that super-cardioid stuff means, only that this thing looks and feels like, well, like something else with the batteries already installed. Have I ever mentioned that I wanted to attempt some singing? Well, I do. I must admit, it's been years since I last did any, mainly at parties when surrounded by uncritical drunks, and I probably sound terrible, but it's something I've wanted to give a go. I'm not out for a recording contract or to impress Simon Cowell, and, don't worry, if it's too disturbing, I won't release any of it to the world.

I was, at this point, utterly dumbfounded. This was definitely worth wearing a sticker for into the restaurant. This exceeded any expectations, heck, I wouldn't have expected such a haul for Christmas, and I certainly wouldn't have expected so much that appeals to my inner child, from my own children who are no longer really children any more. The surprise of it all was overwhelming; one of those pats on the back, hugs, and kisses from the people who matter the most, telling me that, yes, Dad, you're weird and strange, our friends think you talk funny, and we have as much chance understanding you as you have of understanding our generation, but you've got this far without an instruction manual for us. Happy early Father's Day and we love you.

Of course, that's when I cried.

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