As Father’s Day approached this year, my kids were kind enough to ask me what I might like as a present. Per usual, there was very little I could think of that I really needed. But I made a stab at a list, knowing I’d be more than happy with whatever comes my way.

When the kids were little, we made it a habit to go to a movie together on the assigned Sunday afternoon. Disney and Pixar were very accommodating during those years, and there was almost always a movie offered by one or the other that all of us could enjoy.

My dad was always easy to please come Father’s Day. His birthday was also in June, so in May of every year, he’d take a trip to the local bookstore and jot down several tomes of interest to him. He really just wanted more to read on both occasions. Well, books and a Buddy Bar. That’s not the official name of the treat, mind you. But Dairy Queen offered this tempting chocolate-covered concoction that Dad loved but only allowed himself to indulge in once or twice a year. So a book and an ice cream bar made for a perfect celebration for him.

When the “what would you like” question was asked of me this year, it got me thinking. If I’m a little hard to buy something for, what must it be like for the sons and daughters of billionaires? What, for example, would you buy for Warren Buffett? “Hey, Dad, we decided to get you 50% interest in the New York Yankees this year. Hope you like it.”

Or, what if Bill Gates were your dad. New socks probably aren’t going to cut it. Bill’s very much into environmental issues. So maybe something along those lines of interests would be suitable. “Okay, we had to go in together on this, Dad, but you now own the Amazon rain forest. All of it.”

Donald Trump’s five kids are probably stuck for suggestions too. The President doesn’t need another hotel or golf course or casino. He already wears tailor-made clothes, has his own plane, and now gets to ride around in “The Beast,” the official presidential limousine. Maybe Ivanka and her siblings could scare up enough cash to bribe Kim Jong-un in North Korea to shut up and sit down for a while. (That would actually be a great gift period.)

There are some very interesting gifts available to even the regular old go-to-work, watch-ESPN, coach-the-kids’-teams-on-Saturdays dads. One is a baseball bat bottle opener. IT’s made from authentic wooden bats used by Major League players. The one I saw said it came from a Chicago Cubs’ player. Better get one of those now or risk waiting another 108 years for it to be worth anything.

Want something a little flashier? How about a home plate doormat? Looks just like the one the catcher sits behind. Maybe a ticket stub diary. It’s a book that lets Dad tuck away a memory from every game he attends. Fans of the Stanley Cup-winning Pittsburgh Penguins might like a hockey stick snowbrush. And night-running dads could probably use headlights that clip onto the laces of his shoes.

If you’re dad’s a proud Geek, there are lollipops the color of the planets available. Also a DIY gnome terrarium kit. How about a wooden fractal puzzle? Or adult award ribbons to give out for the dad that is “Best at saying what we’re all thinking,” or simply, “I put on pants today.” There’s also an equation clock and super magnetic putty on the market.

For yard-guy dad, there are many options – for one, a bat hanging upside down on a branch sculpture. Or a latitude/longitude house sign (customized, of course, to his address). Maybe a key-hiding rock. Now what dad wouldn’t think that was cool, huh?

There’s one of the all-time great options available for the traveling dad. It’s called the Margarita carry-on cocktail kit. Apparently while in route at 30,000 feet, all one needs to do is ask the kindly Flight Attendant for a mini-bottle of tequila and you can mix up a pair of margaritas right where you sit.

All those items are real, by the way. Nothing made up. And I’m sure there are countless others that would be suited to almost any dad.

As for me, well, I was fortunate enough to celebrate many decades of Father’s Days with my dad before he passed away in 2014 at 89. In his honor, perhaps a Buddy Bar would be appropriate this year – and a good book.

©MMXVII. William J. Lewis, III