Blah, Blah, Blah (Part Two)

     Dad can pretty much do anything on his own.
     That is, when he wants to. However, when my wife is around, he never wants to. Yeah, my wife has my father spoiled. Very spoiled. She treats him a lot better than the way she treats me. Not that I'm jealous. Not even a little.
     Okay, maybe a little.
     Anyway, I had set it up so my wife could have a nice trip, some peace of mind, and maybe even get in a little shopping. Two of our daughters were very happy to help us and give their mom a chance to relax. Our oldest daughter agreed to stay at our house while we were gone. She had set up her work schedule so that she could be at our house to keep an eye on her grandfather most of the time and she was even spending her nights there as well.

     Every morning while we were gone she got up and made her grandfather breakfast, which was nice to hear about, because when she lived with us she, like my Dad, enjoyed having her mother prepare her meals. Like most kids, I guess.
     She didn't make my Dad the feasts he's used to my wife cooking for him, but she fixed him a good breakfast none the less. Any breakfast you don't have to make yourself, I say, is a good breakfast.
     She was gone during the day, so she couldn't make him lunch, but for dinner she would always cook or bring him something.
     "Grandpa," she'd call. "I'm on my way home. Do you want anything?"
     "What?" See? I bet you thought it was just me.
     "Do you want anything?"
     "Do I want anything?"
     "Yes. Do you want anything?"
     "Do I want anything of what?"
     "To eat, grandpa?"
     "To eat?"
     "Yes. To eat."
     "Aren't you going to cook dinner?"
     "I don't have time. I'm running late."
     "Well..." Click, click, click! "Ah..." Smack, smack, smack! "Something to eat?"
     "Do you want some tacos?"
     "I don't like tacos."
     "You like tacos, grandpa."
     "No, I don't."
     "Every time I bring you tacos you eat them."
     "Just 'cause I eat them doesn't mean I like them."
     "You want a burger?"
     "Well... ah... I don't know."
     "I could bring you some Chinese food."
     "I really don't know."
     "Well, tell me what you want."
     "What I want?."
     "Yes, grandpa. What you want."
     "Well... ah..."
     "Mexican food?"
     "Too spicy."
     "Italian?"
     "Too heavy."
     "Chinese?"
     "Too light."
     "I'll bring you whatever you want, grandpa."
     "You sure you can't cook?"
     "Grandpa, I'm getting home too late to cook. What can I bring you?"
     "I guess tacos would be okay."
     After dinner, she served him snacks. Ice cream, fruit, or anything else a king might want served to him by a loyal subject on a golden tray. She'd set the TV on his favorite channel, where he could watch whichever baseball game happened to be on.

     Now, let's remember that our daughter is doing him (and us) a favor. She has her own family to care for, but for a week her family are on their own. Dad has other kids who can help out, but they're always MIA when it comes to taking care of Dad.
     "Hey," I'd tell one, "we're going out of town. Can you take care of Dad for four days?"
     "Aw," this one would answer, "Our kids..." Blah, blah, blah.
     "Hey," I'd tell the other, "we're going out of town. Can you take care of Dad for four days?"
     "Gee," that one would answer, "there's this virus going 'round, and..." Blah, blah, blah.
     Blah, blah, blah, indeed.
   

  

Raising My Father

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