I was over the moon planning my first Father’s Day with my girlfriend, Emma, and our infant son, but her brother’s selfish act nearly ruined it. A moment with my son turned it into something unforgettable. I couldn’t stop smiling as I packed the picnic basket, sunlight hitting the chilled raspberry lemonade Emma loved. I’d planned a simple park day for our family of three, with turkey sandwiches, soft peaches for our six-month-old, Ethan, and matching baseball caps for him and Emma. After making Emma’s first Mother’s Day special with a homemade brunch and a beach walk, I wanted my day to feel just as heartfelt.
But when I got home, the mood shifted. Emma was hurrying, packing her bag. “What’s happening?” I asked, confused. She avoided my eyes. “My brother, Tyler, called. He needs a favor.” My stomach dropped. “Now?” She sighed. “He’s taking his girlfriend to a dessert place and asked us to watch Sophie.” I blinked. “Emma, it’s my first Father’s Day.” She mumbled, “It’s just a few hours. He was desperate.” I stayed calm. “This was our day.” She snapped, “Are you jealous of a kid?” I shook my head. “I’m upset Tyler’s taking over, and you’re letting him.”
Tyler never liked me, always mocking my job as a carpenter, saying, “When’s he getting a serious career?” He’d ignore me at family events, exclude me from photos, and only contact Emma for favors—babysitting, money, or help. Once, he left Sophie with us and vanished. He saw me as a problem, and I wasn’t fond of him. “He’s doing this on purpose,” I said. Emma scoffed. “That’s silly.” Hurt, I grabbed Ethan’s carrier. “Fine, I’m taking Ethan to the park. You deal with Tyler.”
Emma didn’t stop me as I left with Ethan and the picnic. At the park, I spread the blanket, put Ethan’s cap on, and smiled as he babbled. Feeding him peaches, I heard, “Dada!” My heart raced. “Again, buddy!” He grinned, “Dada!” I recorded it, eyes watering. His first word, on Father’s Day! But my joy dimmed, knowing Emma wasn’t there. Ethan’s coos refocused me, and I cherished our time. That evening, I found Emma exhausted on the couch, worn from watching Sophie.
“Back early?” I said, unpacking. She nodded. “I got a video,” I said, showing Ethan’s “Dada.” Her face crumpled, tears falling. “I missed it,” she whispered. “Yeah,” I said, hurt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think.” I shrugged. “You chose Tyler.” Later, I overheard her on the phone, angry. “Tyler, you weren’t at the dessert place! You lied! You used me!” She hung up, defeated. “You okay?” I asked. She nodded. “Tyler’s cheating on his girlfriend. He used Sophie as a cover.”
We sat quietly. “I hurt you,” she said. “I see it now.” I nodded. “You let Tyler come first.” She leaned into me. “I missed Ethan’s first word. I’ll fix this.” I said, “Start by standing up to Tyler.” She agreed. Emma later admitted she felt responsible for Tyler, having raised him when their parents weren’t there. “It’s hard to say no,” she said. The next day, she gave me a framed video still, captioned: “Your First Father’s Day, Ethan’s First Word.” I smiled. “You deserved better,” she said. “I’ll make it up.” The day was tough, but Ethan’s “Dada” and Emma’s promise made it ours.
