No way to spend Father's Day
When they are small, Father's Day is all about them really. As is Christmas, your birthday, holidays, everything really. Because you somehow get more out of seeing them happy and excited than you do out of being happy and excited yourself. You have never been so in love. On special days like today, there can be a hint of melancholy to that love. Auden's rumble of distant thunder at a picnic. You are acutely aware of how precious it is, how they will grow up and away from you, how fleeting it all is, how they will be gone in the blink of an eye.
You don't need to actively dream dreams for your children. There is just a set of assumptions that you take for granted: that you will see them grow up, that you will be there for it, that they will hit the milestones, go to school, ride a bike, make friends, get a job, maybe one day meet someone and have children of their own.
When they are small, you don't tend to dwell on the last bit. When they are small, you can't ever picture them besotted with someone else. As they are with you and you are with them.