Father’s Day Gifts

Father’s Day isn’t until tomorrow, but we’re not exactly one for patience in this family (see, for example, our smallest member who just couldn’t wait to be born). In this case, my wife, who frequently depairs at great volume of ever managing to find me presents that A) I genuinely want, B) do not cost a small fortune, and C) I haven’t already bought for myself; proudly proclaimed that she had found me the perfect gift about a month ago.

And then she tortured me about it for the intervening weeks.

She would gloat. She would say “Oh man, I wish that Father’s Day would hurry up so I could give you your present!” (as if SHE were the one suffering). She would quietly ruminate over whether or not I would really like it. Basically, she was being her usual evil self. Because she’s evil.

More rambling below the jump.

Ikea’s new Qi Chargers (and a project!)

Ikea introduced a line of inductive chargers recently and during a completely unrelated pilgrimage to that mecca of Scandinavian flatpack decor this week, my wife and I ran across their display case and ended up tripling our register bill (despite the chargers themselves being relatively inexpensive at just under $30 each).

The chargers work just as advertised. If you have a Qi-enabled device (such as Kendra’s Nexus 5), just plug in one of their six-inch diameter platters (in white or wood finish . . . or assemble a table or lamp which has the charger built in . . . we went with a couple of the stand-alones for now) and then put your phone in the center of the little plus/X. Voila. It’s charging. And fast. Kendra’s phone went from 50% to fully charged in less than an hour.

More rambling below the jump.

Sometimes? It’s worth it.

Times like this morning, when you discover that your kid pee-sploded last night’s PJs. No big deal, it happens. So you go searching for others and you find a pair of PJs that you bought for him before he was even born because you knew that they were awesome and that he would need them eventually.

Yeah. Days like today, when your kid is running around with the cape of his Superman pajamas flapping in the wind, totally unaware of who Superman really is, makes the hours of screaming tantrums (approach being) worth it.