By LISA MITCHELL
My dad is notoriously hard to buy gifts for so I tend to come up with something he likes once, and then spend the next five years repeating that gift until Mum taps me on the shoulder and points out that he hasn’t actually been using my brilliant gifts for at least three of those five years.
But I refuse to give up. One day I will nail it. I will come up with the perfect present that sees him enter a state of lip-wobbling appreciation because of how thoughtful his youngest daughter is.
Which is what made it all the more worse when I plum forgot to buy him anything at all last Father’s Day. I blame myself obviously, and the fact our kitchen had been ripped out two days before in preparation for a renovation. Unless a reminder note is on my fridge, I forget everything.
No kitchen, no fridge full of reminders to gaze at.
My sisters are no help and my brother even less. I am the one who usually takes up the collection to buy gifts in my family. They are frustratingly lost without me and tend to forget to give me the money until my text message reminders become a little passive-aggressive.
Passive-aggression via text message to siblings is my specialty.
But back to the day in question…
Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by Dan Murphys. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
I knew we were due at my parent’s house for lunch but for some unknown reason it hadn’t twigged that it was for Father’s Day.
Because I was kitchen-less!
Mum was doing all the cooking and I half thought lunch was being put on for my benefit. I was getting sick of takeaway and had another six days to wait for my new kitchen to be fully installed.
A text from my sister alerted me to the fact I had forgotten not only Father’s Day, but a Father’s Day gift.
“Just transferred $50 for Dad’s gift. By the way, what did we get him this year?”
My stomach absolutely dropped. How could I have forgotten? I was the family gift-getter and while my gifts didn’t seem to please my difficult-to-buy-for dad, a fact he sometimes seems strangely proud of, at least I tried. And tried and tried.