Happy Father’s Day to the dads, and all kinds of dads-to-be. This year was slightly different from a “hoping for a rest” day, coinciding with Padme’s 8th birthday.

Birthdays in another country are always an eye-opener. There’s no end of new local norms to adjust to. The first year Padme had a birthday here in Spain we did what we’ve always done with presents: accepted them politely, put them in a pile, and told an over-excited child “you can open them when we get home.”

The first year we tried to pull that in Spain? The other kids were outraged. And I immediately got it. How dare they we rob them of that joy, their friend’s face lit up on seeing a thoughtfully chosen gift opened?! They brought all kinds of presents but it was the personal touch that meant the most: handmade cards, an envelope full of drawings; a canvas with her nickname—“Piny”—painted onto it; one mum even made her a small, beautiful bracelet. Her friends sat around her chanting “¡ÁBRELO!”

Only a vicious opening would satisfy their thirst.

Bodhi spent the day in what was basically a Sonic dress, after refusing to wear shorts all day.1 Bodhi always gonna Bodhi.

Your kid’s birthday party is never a day off. But I feel like I had my Father’s Day early this year, spending Thursday and Friday at Sònar Festival. On Thursday I picked the kids up from school on Thursday, cycled them home, and then went and partied with a group of strangers, listening to electronic music in an astroturfed field. Thank you to my wife for helping make that happen.

Life is good here. And I hope life was good for you today too.