Aw, Who Am I Kidding?

What's the appeal of cartoons?
     Today, my grandson and I decide to relax, so we go into the great room to watch cartoons. We just got back from a pretty busy two days of hiking, camping, and sleeping under the stars, and we were tired from all that good-time-having.
     No sooner do we turn the TV on, than it happens. I see the kitchen door open, and in walks my Dad. How did he know? How does he know? Why does he know?
     I can hear him as he walks into the room.
     Click, click, click! he clicks. Smack, smack, smack! he smacks. Mumble, mumble, mumble! he mumbles.
     "Ahhh... ohhh... weee..." he says, as he makes his way to his (my) favorite chair. My grandson and I are laying on the floor on some pillows.
     My Dad sits down, slowly, making as much noise as a 94 year-old human being can possibly make. Some times I don't know where those noises are coming from. Some times I don't want to know.
     The way I figure it, he can either be fast or he can be silent, and he chooses to go the route that annoys me the most. But then...
     Son of a...
     My Dad actually sits and watches cartoons with us.
     For over an HOUR!
     I look over at him occasionally to make sure he's still breathing. I shake my head. I don't know why he's here. Even I'm only here to keep my grandson company and out of my wife's hair.
     If my Dad were a trustworthy babysitter, I would have left the two of them by themselves watching cartoons, and snuck away into my Dad's little father-in-law house for some privacy. And then I would help myself to some drinks from his well-stocked fridge, grab a few snacks from his well-stocked pantry, and watched his TV for a change.
     Maybe that's just what I'll do.
     Aw, who am I kidding? I'm either stuck watching cartoons or baseball on my fancy-dancy big-screen TV in our great room. If there's something I want to watch, I usually have to watch it on the sad little TV in my bedroom. The one that, if it were human, would prefer being called a little person.
     I look at my grandson. He's laughing at whoever's making the fart noises on screen. I look at my Dad. He's still breathing.
     I guess it's not such a bad life.
 
 

Raising My Father

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