A Fathers' Day to remember for an assortment of reasons.
I woke up this morning to five cards (I only have two kids, as above), with Jamie's handcrafted doodle of him and me the ace in the pack.
I think he has me to a tee.
And then it was off to the fun fair which has been visiting Guiseley this weekend.
Now, even on Fathers' Day, you would think that such a trip would be one for the kids. But you would be overlooking one crucial fact.
Having grown up a mere amble from Barry's Amusements in Portrush, I - like almost everyone else from that glorious part of the world - know my amusements. And forget Barry's Big Dipper (stop it), for me the Waltzer reigns supreme. I love it.
Really, I could spend all day on the Walzter. Indeed, it was the one aspect of Michael Jackson's life that made me stand back in envy. Michael Jackson had his own Walzter. I don't think a man could be luckier than that - even with Jermaine as a brother.
But over the past five years, I haven't had much of a chance to go Waltzing. Until last year, Jamie was too small - and then was was too scared.
But today, for me, on Fathers' Day, he agreed to go on with me - twice.
I don't remember feeling so proud (or sad - but let's move on).
Which takes me to my own dad, who I spoke to a little earlier to wish him a Happy Fathers' Day too.
After exchanging pleasantries, he announced a neighbour had just told him that, following a recent death, he was now the oldest resident on the street.
"Where do I go from there?" he asked.
"I wouldn't like to say," I replied.
"And a good night to you too, you c***."
That's my dad.
