I’m going to write over at the poop about the insane amount of fun we had at the ballpark for father’s day this year, despite the fact that the Giants weren’t even in town. That made it better, swear to god. The fun lot was open and we had the place practically to ourselves. Emme smashed whiffle balls out of a replica park and we all got to slide down these giant twisty slides as much as we wanted. Then we hopped back on our bikes and stuffed ourselves silly at the ferry building. In all, we must have ridden about 50 million miles that day, because our butts hurt like all get out the next day.
