Dad waited 34 years for payback. Jonah joyfully obliges. Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

After a lovely meal at the Guadalajara Grill, the Davison clan return to Ma and Pa’s for conversation (Mom, Dad, Bret, Erin) and naps (Jonah and me). Jonah got another eight hours of sleep last night, and although we know we won’t always be so lucky, it’s been a nice respite from the 4 AM wakeups.

Shortly after Bret returned to Portland with his friend Al, I found myself burping baby in the living room. Now Jonah’s spilled a little milk in his day, but today I think he set the record. He’d been feeding like a ravenous wolf all day (portending a growth spurt we think), and what can I say? When babies eat too much they have a tendency to helpfully return the excess. This afternoon that excess was returned all over me.

My dad’s response was “Welcome to Tokyo.” This was the first thing he heard upon our arrival in Japan some 34 years ago. The first thing he felt was his eldest son burping up all over him. Dad’s waited 34 years for the other shoe to drop and—Happy Father’s Day, Dad—he seemed pretty darn amused when it finally did.

While the laundry cycled and I hung out in Dad’s borrowed clothes, we watched the end of the Spurs-Nets NBA Championship. Good for the Spurs. Boring-as-anything game, but at least they’re good fellows. After the game, we tuned into HGTV, a Home & Garden channel. Very interesting to see what others have done with their house remodels. Inspiring, really, much like today. Because if you don’t think that some day I’m going to be saying to Jonah, “Welcome to Tokyo,” you’ve got another thing coming.