Don't fear; for those asking if three consecutive serious columns are a result of a major life-changing epiphany where I no longer find humor in everyday life, or experience as many messups in my day-to-day life, that is not the case. The personal life, over the past couple weeks, has still featured me stumbling into curbs and twisting an ankle (the curb came out of nowhere!), knocking my head on the bathroom door as I jumped up after hitting my knee against the wall (what you call a series of unfortunate events), having my shaver break just as I began cutting my hair (luckily Hymie was in town to save the day) and buying a meal at a fast food restaurant in Brandon only to pay, walk away, drive away, then realize I forgot to actually take the food (then deciding I was already too far gone – literally and figuratively, apparently – to go back for it). The dating life? Well thanks to a strategic purchase of Gas-X at the local pharmacy my previously discussed IBS issue has been a non-factor (although once I laughed and it resulted in a noisy and unwelcome release) but whilst cooking a fancy supper for a ladyfriend I forgot to look out for fluid leaking overtop the electric fryer and into the electrical chord connector on the fryer. Fortunately for myself, while I was searching for the cause of the loud crackling (which I naturally assumed was just a result of my miscooking of the meal), the ladyfriend was able to both identify the cause of the noise while noticing the small flames emerging from it (again, I'm used to smoke emerging from my food). Unfortunately the “easy meals to impress her” online recipe didn't explain what to do if you start a small electrical fire while attempting to cook, so as I decided to ponder how hard I should start blowing or if water should be used to drown out the situation, the kitchen counterpart was wise enough to advise me to simply pull the plug (I'm a writer, not a logistics specialist) and the baby blaze was stopped. For the record, the food was not set ablaze and still tasted good (I may have also inadvertently gotten myself out of cooking duties for the near future). Anyway, this column digressed before it even began (re: column title “Son's Day”) and now about two-thirds of my designated space is consumed. After a Mother's Day filled with flowers and a piano recital, I couldn't help but think, “What about us sons?”. So I propose a “Son's Day”, maybe on April 19 (conveniently halfway between Christmas and my birthday) where males with no children get recognized. For moms, it will give a chance to celebrate how their sons were kind enough to keep them busy ever since they were a seed in the belly, until they were in sports and arts programs keeping their mommies active driving them around from activity to activity, until today when they randomly come home (unannounced) raid the fridge and steal home bakings by the container-full. For fathers, they can celebrate their sons getting them off the couch, away from professional sports, and instead watching and coaching pewee sports (or arts/community programs). The sisters can celebrate how their brothers rummaged through their diary, flirted with their friends and borrowed the odd dress to try on for a laugh (...I'm definitely referencing other sons here, not I). And lastly, since only single, son-less males can celebrate Son's Day (otherwise they already have Father's Day), the bars can give extra-special specials in celebration of the people who continue to keep their establishments alive. Anyway, those are just a few thoughts – feel free to pass that idea on to the people who make holidays (the government?). In the meantime (while I go on in my life without a special day dedicated to men like myself), until next week, keep a smile on your face and I'll do the same.