I got my dad a new smart thermostat for Father's Day, thinking it would finally put an end to his temperature tinkering.

Now he just complains that the future isn't warm enough.

Growing up, my dad wasn't big on mushy stuff; hugs were brief, and 'I love you' was often replaced with a nod.

But then I realized, every time he quietly fixed my bike, mowed the lawn without being asked, or just sat with me when I was down, he was speaking volumes.

We asked my dad what his ideal Father's Day activity would be, expecting something simple and relaxing.

He said, 'An opportunity to start a *new* home improvement project... one that definitely requires a trip to the hardware store.'

My dad's perfect Father's Day usually involves him disappearing into the garage for a bit.

He says he's 'meditating,' but I think he's just making sure his wrenches haven't changed size since last Tuesday.