Father's Day Fail: Who doesn't love a fist-bumping unicorn?

 I blame the genetics. Sydney has inherited her horrific gift-giving skills from me. It can all be traced back to the Spanish-language Pokemon cards that I bought for the twins over a decade ago. Sydney's only job...her ONLY job was to pick out a Father's Day card for Grandpa. "What is taking her so long," Savannah muttered as we waited for Sydney to emerge with the card and some Oliver's chocolate for her dad. Unable to stand it, Savannah stormed into the chocolate shop after her sister...just in time to stop her from buying Brad a chocolate guitar. No...Brad does not play the guitar. And while he is familiar with the great works of Hendrix and Santana...I don't think he's exactly what you would call a guitar enthusiast. So...why the guitar? WE DON'T KNOW! Thanks to Savannah's intervention, Brad instead ended up with a chocolate fish lollipop and a box of chocolate-covered pecan clusters. If only we had been able to save her grandfather...

"Where's the card for Grandpa," I asked as the girls returned to the car. Savannah, disgusted, huffed and slumped down in her seat. "They didn't have any Father's Day cards," Sydney explained. It was the day BEFORE Father's Day. How could that be? Everyone knows that Father's Day is to Mother's Day as Ground Hog's Day is to Christmas. How could they be sold out...unless they didn't even bother to stock them in the first place!?! Poor dads.

On to a drugstore. And, yes. We let Sydney go in, unchaperoned. BIG mistake. She came out smiling and proudly handed me the card. "No Father's Day cards there either," she reported, "so I improvised." "What the h--e-double-hockey-sticks is this?" A dragon fist-bumping a unicorn? A whimsical jackalope? And wait. What's this? Was Grandpa's card bedazzled? "Yeah...that just screams Grandpa," Savannah said sarcastically, looking over my shoulder at the dragon pushing his little unicorn friend on a swing. "We can't give him this," I told Sydney. I glanced at the clock. We were already late. My parents HATE when I'm late. I grabbed a pen.

Time to make lemonade out of lemons. Or assign blame where blame is due. "Sydney selected your Father's Day card," I wrote, "Please remember that she graduated 4th in her class. She spent $5 on this ridiculous card--obviously reflecting her great love for you. Maybe the sparkly jewel is a real diamond." Okay. I felt a little better. "We love you despite the card," I finished with a flourish. Sydney pouted. "I think the card is cute."

We arrived only eight minutes late which is some sort of record for us. We waited with bated breath as Grandpa opened his card. He inspected the cover with carefully concealed confusion before turning to read the message. Looking up, he smiled broadly at his granddaughter before offering her a warm side hug. "I think it's cute," he told her. Vindicated, she glared at us. "Grandpa is lying to you," we hissed at her while Grandma rushed to place the card in a prominent place. Who needs hammers, ducks, and fishing scenes? What says "Happy Father's Day better than fantasy creatures?!?