“Well, it’s for me, but also kind of for you.”
I get up and pull out the gift box from the duffel we left in the room earlier. Handing it to Reid, I tell him, “You open it, but then I’ll show you.”
“Don’t ruin the surprise. Is it a vibrator?”
“Open it.”
He does, and pulls out an apron. “This is for me, and for you,” he says slowly, not getting it. “Is there a riddle in here I’m missing?”
“Give it to me.”
I snatch the apron, turn away from him, and tie it on.
I turn around to face him, the apron securely fastened around my otherwise naked body, and he reads the caption aloud.
“MY COOK ALWAYS GIVES GREAT SECONDS.”
His eyebrows rise, and he says, “C’mere.”
I go ... and I get not good, but even better seconds.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, grandpas, honorary uncles, men, and grillers out there.
Today is a special one. Not because I’m making street tacos for dinner—and it’s not even Tuesday. But today is a special day.
Last week, I became a father. Twice. Two times, folks!
No need to read that twice. I actually became a father twice in one week, and not to twins. So, don’t try to get smart with me.
In the eyes of the law, I adopted Gabby, who, in my mind, was already my daughter and commander-in-chief of my heart.
[Below is a pic of the two of us on our first alone date to FunZone.]
Less than forty-eight hours after the adoption became official, my beautiful wife, Andi, gave birth to our son, Liam Tobias. Mom and baby are both doing well, and anxiously awaiting my dinner. Liam happened to love street tacos when he was still in Andi’s belly.
[Below is a pic of baby Liam in the hospital nursery. He’s the one wearing the tiny apron readingCHEF IN TRAINING.]
I know it’s Father’s Day and the crew should be cooking for me—at the very least, baking a cake—but in this house, every day is Mother’s Day. Yeah, I know, I’m a sappy fool. In the wise words of Elsa,Let it go.
Don’t call me a wuss. I speak the truth.
Six years ago, when this blog started on a dare, I never thought it would be all of this. Or that I would be a dad (twice over).
But I am a dad, and this blog is what it is today because of the woman in my life. Without her, I’d still be the very lonelyGrill and Groom.
BUT I’m much happier writingThe Girl and His Grill.
Until dinner tomorrow,
Reid
Andi
Morning, lovers.
It’s been eight weeks since I had a baby, and let me tell you, Johnson’s Baby Wash is just as good as any of that fancy stuff on the market. Yes, this post is sponsored by them—I admit it—but only after I wrote a few weeks ago about their sensitive-skin formula kicking ass. After all, I speak the truth.
In other news: Apparently, our daughter, Gabby, inherited the family gene for blogging. She made the following video of Liam in the bathtub.
