(Inspired by a conversation with Sharon, and by the fact that my son has an obnoxious habit of not eating his cereal while I'm in the room. I've said "eat. your. cereal." so many times this morning that I'm seriously just over it.)
My dad's having a rough time lately - he keeps breaking his bones. I get all of my grace from him, and as this story shows, all of my class.
My dad flew out to California for my wedding and stayed at our house. He knew, but didn't believe, that my wedding night would be my ~*first time*~ - it was completely inconceivable to my, er, overactive father that anyone would treat sex as a sacred and special act.
Since my family was going to be in town and I hadn't seen them in a while and it wasn't like we were going to be doing much sight-seeing anyway, Drew and I decided to stay in a local hotel in lieu of a proper honeymoon. (He took me to Vegas the next month.) As we were about to head to our hotel, Daddy, who gets especially classy during awkward moments (like ones in which he knows his daughter is moments from gettin' some), said the following.
Daddy: "Give me a call if you need some help."
Me: "You're just gonna tell Drew to put his pants back on and get away from your daughter."
Daddy: "Naw, you're married now, wear it out."
That was the first of many inappropriate conversations Drew witnessed between me and my father. I think he's almost used to it now. We don't have a lot of boundaries when it comes to conversations, Daddy and me.
One night that July, when we went to visit my family in Indiana:
Daddy: "Well, it's about time to tuck in and screw my wife."
Me: "I had the same idea for me and Drew. Baby, you ready?"
Daddy: *giving me an angry look* "Huh. Nevermind, Drew's sleeping with me."
Me: "Don't want nothin', don't start nothin', buddy."
I'm gonna go force the rest of Ace's cereal down his throat and get him dressed and ready for school, then make my broken Daddy some cookies and mail them to him. (He's got two broken ribs and a broken elbow, from separate incidents.)
1 month ago