To the man who wanted a son, but got three daughters: thank you for teaching me what a good burp sounds like. I still can't quite manage one, but I try my best to make you proud.
For the guy who's favorite Sunday Morning Wrestling move was a dutch oven: thank you for letting us out after a minute so that we didn't suffocate.
To my father, who cried that one Christmas because I got him the most awesome present ever (time spent with me in a super-cool museum): thanks for showing me that stuff can be cool and educational at the same time.
For the man that hooked all my worms for me when I was too young to do it myself and thought they were gross: thank you for always showing your trust in me, even though you always ducked when I cast my line.
To the father who taught me everything I know about camping: thank you for carrying the heavy stuff when we went hiking. I can help now, though I'll still let you build the fire.
For the guy who taught me how to shell peanuts without looking: thanks for showing me a sport that isn't all about running down the other team and beating the crap out of them or baseball.
You're a pretty awesome guy, but you only get to hear it once a year. Wouldn't want your ego to swell.
And no, there is no post-father's day celebration week.