My daughter was only five months old when I celebrated my first father's day. My wife, who is far better at gift giving than I am (sorry babe), had a brilliant idea. She bought foam letters at a local craft store, one D, an A and a Y, and took pictures of my then-infant kid "interacting" with (read: biting) them. She got them printed and mounted them in a floating frame, arranged so the pictures spell "Daddy."
I may've cried a bit.
But she didn't stop there. Every year since she's taken the letters and camera out and had the kid do it all over again. This will be my fourth Father's Day and she's already presented me with my gift for this year — the kid playing on the big swingset I built for her earlier this spring, D, A and Y in hand.
The frame in my office is like a time capsule now, getting thicker every year. The latest pictures show through but the older ones are all in behind. An annual testament to my wife's awesomeness.
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