What Happened To The Game?

Earlier today, my wife has my Dad all set up in the great room, his favorite place to watch TV.
     He has a nice little father-in-law house in front of ours, with a very nice TV set of his own, but his favorite place to watch TV is in our house. So he's sitting in his (my) favorite chair, and my wife turned a baseball game on for him. It's not one of his favorite teams, but it's close enough. His favorite team will play later tonight.
     The lights are all on, I don't know why that is. I prefer watching TV with the lights off, but I think my Dad gets more enjoyment from the TV-watching experience when he's wasting my money. The game is on, and he has his tea and snacks next to him on a coffee table.
     I'm upstairs with my grandson. We go downstairs for a snack, and the lights are all on in the great room, even the kitchen lights are on, and the TV is still blasting away with the game my Dad said he couldn't wait to see.
     Where's my Dad? He's MIA. It happens all the time. He'll turn every single light on in the house (I exaggerate, but not by much), and will plop himself down in front of the TV so that no one else can watch anything, and then he'll disappear when no one's watching. Siegfried and Roy wish they could disappear so convincingly.
     My grandson and I get our snacks. Yogurt. Well, he sees the big TV and wants to watch cartoons. Spaceghost. Frankenstein Jr. The Banana Splits. Those are cartoons from back when I was a kid, so I know the feeling.
     "Pocoyo," my grandson tells me. "Pocoyo."
     I'm trying to keep him busy. I tell him to wait for several minutes just in case my Dad comes back. Fifteen minutes later... still no Dad.
     "You know what," I tell my grandson, "it's time for Pocoyo."
     "Yes," he agrees. "Pocoyo."
     I change the channel as he sits down, and I go grab us a few more snacks and drinks, and turn off all the lights we don't need. We're chillin'.
     Twenty minutes later, from the corner of my eye, I see the kitchen door open. I see a shadow walk in, and I know who it is. The kitchen light comes on. Yeah, it's my Dad.
     I hear some mumbling. A few smacks. Some click, click, clicks. Cough, cough, cough. Sneeze, sneeze. Cough. Mumble, mumble, mumble. Then, "Hunh?"
     Dad walks up to the edge of the kitchen and stops. I can tell he's staring at the TV, then at us, then back at the TV. I can almost hear him thinking, "What happened to the baseball game?"
     He stands there for about five minutes. I hear ohhh... ahhh... hmmm... mumble, mumble.
     "What happened to the baseball game," he finally says. "Is it over?"
     My grandson is so glued to the cartoon that he doesn't even notice my Dad has walked in. He looks cute. He's got his bare feet up, and he's drinking a YooHoo.
     My Dad coughs to let us know he's there. I act like I didn't hear him. Several more cough, cough, coughs. A few ohhhs. Some ahhhs, and then he slowly walks to his (my) favorite chair--See? I'm not such a jerk.--and sits down.
     I keep my eyes on the TV. The last thing I  want to do is engage my Dad, or give him an opportunity to ask about the game he's missing. Well, he's not quite missing it. He has a perfectly good TV in his father-in-law house, so, if he misses the game, it's because he chooses to miss the game.
     For the next thirty minutes Dad watches the cartoon with us. Maybe he's just waiting for my wife to come downstairs and change the channel for him. After forty minutes, he mumbles something about taking a nap. Ten minutes after that--after some coughing and sneezing and mumbling--he gets up. He gives his nose a good honk, says something about the game, ohhhs and ahhhs and leaves.
     Why didn't I change the channel to the game? I can hear you asking. (Man, you're nosey.) Well, I didn't change the channel because he does this ALL THE TIME! He leaves the lights on, the TV on, and sometimes even the refrigerator open... and then LEAVES. Sometimes I'll find out he's gone because I'll come downstairs to see him gone. Sometimes I'll find out he's gone, because the refrigerator will start to buzz, letting me know the door's been left open. He goes to his room, and sometimes he'll return... and sometimes he doesn't.
     My grandson also has rights. He's got no money, but he's got rights.
     "You like Pocoyo?" I ask him.
     "Yes," he says.
     And that's why I didn't change the channel.
 
 
Raising My Father


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