Father’s Day is, for me, a time to spend with family, doing what you do: fathering. On Sunday my wife took Child Harbat and I out to brunch, then we walked on the beach, the water turquoise and the skies brilliant clear. CH hiked up her dress and ran splashing through the waves, laughing and coaxing me out further. Eventually she fell in, I carried the wet dress over my forearm like a waiter with a towel, and CH resumed playing in the water in a state of pure happiness that warmed my heart and sustained my soul. To be around children is to see the elemental forces of the universe at work: love and energy. I can’t get enough of my daughter, even when I’ve had enough and she’s driving me up the wall. Even on Sunday, about as perfect a day as you could hope for, I lost my patience with CH when she slumped in tired grumpiness instead of helping to change out of her wet sandy underwear. But being a father means you can’t throw up your hands and walk away. So after losing my cool I got her buckled in her carseat and we drove home to spend the afternoon swimming and laughing in the pool. Life as a father has been the best thing to ever happen to me, and this year, Father’s Day felt like an opportunity to me to say thank you, to my wife, and especially to Child Harbat.