The Day of Zubs

(We call him Zubs. There is a very, very long explanation as to why, but if I wrote it down I'd just be drawing attention to all the crazy).

SO! It was Father's Day on Sunday, and since Dash happens to own the very best of all the fathers, we celebrated in many manly ways.

The day began with gifts. Which is the best way to begin any day.

There was a barbeque component that consisted of a Dash-made apron.

And some mama-made bourbon & brown sugar barbeque sauce. (Dash made the label. The light blue should read as "soon the pig will be bacon." Dark).

If only the Internet was scratch & sniff.

ALSO: onion bacon marmalade. 

Or, you know, marmalabe. 

We made the sauces the weekend before, and needed to store them in the fridge without them being discovered early. Good thing I have Jedi training.

After a breakfast of toad in a hole, bacon, chocolate chip waffles, onion bacon marmalade toast and cinnamon rolls, Grandpa arrived and the boys went to go look at cars at the Petersen Automotive Museum. 

I know it was Father's Day, but I got the very best gift of the day: permission to not go to the Petersen museum and look at cars.

After they had seen enough cars, my fellas returned to me and I took them out for ribs. Because ribs. And also because they had a leg lamp in the waiting area. That's how we knew it was a good restaurant. Because that lamp? It's a Major Award.

Happy Father's Day, Zubs! We're the world's luckiest humans to get to share a life with you.