SUMMARY: For the life (and or ghost) of him, Jack Fenton just could not figure out what day he seemed to have forgotten . . . Happy Father's Day!
Observational 'Skills'
Jack Fenton grunted as he collapsed onto the Fenton Couch™. Once he sufficiently relaxed – plate of assorted fudges and cookies in hand, neatly decorated and cut like little ghosties as they should be! – he sighed happily and grinned at his son.
He had no clue why, but for once fourteen-year-old Danny hadn't objected to spending his Sunday – usually spent with his two best friends – down in the lab with him. In fact, his son had brightened up when asked, and had seemed almost eager to help (it faded somewhat when he was showed the blueprints for the next Fenton Invention, but otherwise seemed fine). Normally, the freshman avoided the Fenton Lab™ like the plague, but today . . .
Jack knew he had a terrible memory for appointments and such. What was today?
Fourth of July? Nah . . . for one, it wasn't July. Besides, he'd know if it was the Fourth of July. Danny's friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley always came over, and would disappear up to the Fenton OPS-Center™. The trio would then proceed to give the town a spectacular fireworks show, even if the predominant colors were a vivid green and pale blue. Ah well. His favorites were always the ones that whistled!
What was the question again?
Oh, right. Day.
. . . oh, but Maddie had already told him a good fifty-three times that Opposite Day wasn't real and to go play with his Fenton Ecto-Gun™.
Maybe he should ask again . . . ?
He watched Danny assemble a Fenton Ecto-Gun™ fairly quickly, and beamed back when his son and youngest child presented him the finished product with a wide grin.
After amusing himself with watching the teen contemplate the prints for the complicated Fenton Bazooka™, Jack finally asked "Hey, Danny . . . what day is it today?"
Danny paused to blink at him, obviously surprised. "You mean you don't know? Did you forget again?"
Jack cheerfully nodded a response.
Danny raised an eyebrow, but simply shrugged. "Eh, okay." The teen abandoned the parts to the Fenton Bazooka™, pulling over his mother's Fenton Laptop™. He tapped away at the keyboard, then leaned back as a song played out the speakers.
Driving through town, just my boy and me
With a Happy Meal in his booster seat
Knowing that he couldn't have the toy 'till his nuggets were gone
A green traffic light turned straight to red
I hit the brakes and mumbled under my breath
His fries went flying and his orange drink covered my lap
And then my four-year-old said a four-letter word
That started with 'S', and I was concerned
So I said "Son, now where'd you learn to talk like that?"
He said "I been watching you, Dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my food, and grow as tall as you are
We got cowboy boots and camo pants
Yeah, we're just alike, hey, ain't we Dad?
I wanna do everything you do . . .
So I been watching you!"
We got back home and I went to the barn
I bowed my head and I prayed real hard
I said "Lord, please help me help my stupid self!"
Just this side of bedtime later that night
Turning on my son's Scooby-Doo nightlight
He crawled out of bed and he got down on his knees
He closed his little eyes and folded his little hands
And spoke to God like he was talking to a friend
And I said "Son, now where'd you learn to pray like that?"
He said "I been watching you, Dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my good, and grow as tall as you are
We like fixing things and holding Momma's hand
Yeah, we're just alike, hey, ain't we Dad?
I wanna do everything you do . . .
So I been watching you!"
With tears in my eyes, I wrapped him in a hug
Said "My little bear is growing up!"
And he said "But when I'm big
I'll still know what to do . . .
'Cause I been watching you
Dad, ain't that cool?
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you!
And eat all my food!
And grow as tall as you are!
I bet I'll be strong as Superman
We'll be just alike, hey, won't we Dad?
When I can do everything you do!
'Cause I been watching you!"
Jack blinked, still not quite getting it as the song's vocals died down, or even as the next song began to play.
Danny watched him a moment or two, expectant. When the huge inventor and father gave no sign of comprehension, the teen sighed, giving a small grin as he opened his mouth to say something.
Jack's daughter and eldest Jazz came rushing down the stairs, cutting her brother off.
"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" the psychologist-to-be chirruped cheerfully, then took one look at Danny's face before fleeing back upstairs.
Danny booked it after her.
"JAZZ! No fair, I was about to tell him, geez! HEY – FIGHT FAIR!"
"Oh, but it's just the Spector Deflector™!"
"JAZZ!"
Jack sighed. A typical day in the Fenton Household™, he supposed . . .
. . . but couldn't Danny have finished the Fenton Bazooka™ for him before rushing upstairs? He'd need it to catch that pesky ghost kid later!