Lake Forester

Cologne again for a Father’s Day gift?

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Updated: July 15, 2012 2:18PM

The other day, as my husband and I stood back to back at our respective bathroom vanities performing our usual “getting ready for work” routines, I casually turned to him in between tweezing my eyebrows and inquired, “The kids and I want to know what you want for Father’s Day, Steve.”

And the subsequent 10-minute exchange went something like this.

Steve Malin: “Wait, when’s Father’s Day this year?”

Maria Malin: “Seriously? The same as every year. The third Sunday in June.”

SM: “So when’s that?”

MM: “I don’t know, you do the math. What do you want from the kids and me? I don’t wanna go shopping at the last minute.”

Then I couldn’t remember if I’d tweezed my other eyebrow, so went on to examine it closely in my magnifying make-up mirror that I’d be completely, cosmetically lost without.

SM: “I don’t know. I guess I could use more cologne.”

MM: “You always ask for cologne.”

SM: “Well, that’s what I need, Maria. You asked me what I needed and I told you.”

MM: “Fine. Then I guess we’ll get you cologne. Again.”

Then he couldn’t remember if he put on deodorant yet, and went on to try to catch the familiar whiff of Degree Powder Fresh deodorant and decided it was better to double up than omit, while I went on to apply a few brushes of mascara and bronzer.

SM: “What are we doing on Father’s Day anyway? I’m sure you already have something planned for me.”

MM: “No, but I told you we have to go to a graduation party that day.”

SM: “On Father’s Day?”

MM: “Like Mother’s Day is ever about me?”

SM: “You’re crabby.”

MM: “I’m the one who’s crabby?”

Then I realized that I forgot to shave my legs and was wearing a skirt to work. I thought long and hard about holding to the skirt or changing to pants.

MM: “Pants.”

SM: “What did you say?”

MM: “Nothing.”

Then he asked me to check if he missed a spot shaving because he forgot his cheater glasses downstairs and didn’t want to head to a work meeting looking like an elderly man.

MM: “Okay, I gotta get outta here or I’ll be late. So text me what you want from us for Father’s Day. I don’t want to go shopping at the last minute. Love you, bye.”

SM: “Wait what? I already told you.”

MM: “Bye, honey. Text me about your gift.”

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, from the women in their lives who share their middle age forgetfulness and who refuse to buy them the same old Father’s Day gifts each year.

Lake Forester columnist Maria Malin can be reached at write2mariamalin@aol.com





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