I’m feeding two beagles while my dad and his fiancée are out of town (note to burglars: their house is not empty; it is filled with gun-toting men and Pit Bulls). Because my dad is my dad, he wrote out pages of instructions for me (note to Dad: I’m 32! I can handle this!)
The instructions included notes on how to use the alarm system, how to use the garage door opener, what to do if the alarm goes off and which lights and doors to use while I’m there. (Strangely, it included no instructions on what food and vitamins to give the dogs… I had to just remember that stuff.)
On top of the novel filled with instructions, my dad walked me through the house to point out the alarm keypads, to talk about the times he’s accidentally set it off and to imitate it for me at the top of his lungs (“INTRUDER! INTRUDER! LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!”) Oh, and he gave me the invaluable advice that if I ever pull up to the house and the alarm is going off, I should not go into the house (Uh, thanks Dad. Because I was going to pull my shotgun out from under the seat of my car and go teach those burglars a lesson?) After about an hour, I got a little antsy with the process agreeing to feed the dogs had turned into, so I started getting a little smartass.
Me: Dad, I might use your Jacuzzi while you’re gone.
Dad: Definitely. You and [the Pretend Husband] should come over and watch TV, eat whatever you want and you can even stay over if you want (note: he lives 5 miles from our house, but whatever…)
Me: Can we have friends over?
Dad: Well… you can have one friend come over.
Me: One? What if we want to have SJ and J over?
Dad’s Fiancée (catching on to what I’m doing): Yeah, what if it’s a married couple? Can they have a another couple over?
Dad: OK. You can have one couple come with you.
Me: But what if I want to have a few friends over?
Dad: No. Just two friends.
Me: Please? C’mon, Dad. If your parents go out of town, you’re supposed to have a party.
Dad: No. No parties.
(Yup, 32 years old and I own my own house... and I still have to be warned not to go after burglars and forbidden to have parties while my parents are out of town!)
5 comments:
LOL, that is gold. You will always be his little girl.
That reminds me of when my frail little granny, in her eighties, wanted to walk like ten blocks uphill during a blackout to make sure my aunt, her forty year old daughter, was okay.
Or when my mum came over to Husband's & my house and started cleaning up and throwing things away. I had to stop her because she accidentally nearly threw out all the cards we got at our wedding.
Dad's are funny that way. Even though mine doesn't even live in this country anymore, precious long distance minutes are spent telling me to lock the door, make sure the stove is turned off, and to watch watch my purse when I head downtown.
Gee thanks, dad, but I'm a big girl. I cross the street on my own and everything.
Also, come play our game over at Tash's blog, Funny Gals (and everyone else)!
I'm coming over.
So how many people did you have come over ?
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