Holidaze With Dad (Part Two)

Ah, Christmas.
     I remember when it would cost me under $100. It would be enough to buy enough gifts for everyone, and I'm talking about nice gifts. Not like the kind my brother gives. He once gave me a shirt that was from a very expensive store, and when I went to return it, the sales person hemmed and hawed and then told me that the shirt was from last season, and they could only give me the sale price, which ended up with ME owing THEM money. But I don't hold grudges.
     Anyway...

     Then the cost of Christmas warp-speeded into the hundreds. It seems like it was just a few years ago that I could still keep everything under a thousand... now it runs over a thousand. Why? Don't ask me, I just earn the cash and sign the checks. 

     Well, now that I have taken my parent's place within my family, the cost of Christmas continues to make the jump to hyper-drive. Especially when certain kinfolk requested certain eats without contributing to a certain pot.

     My wife is busy putting a feast together that would put a Las Vegas-type buffet to shame. All you can eat. If it's not there, then it's not food. My wife has a serious sweet tooth, so the desserts are varied and delicious. She makes them herself, but this time decided against pumpkin and pecan pies because 1) we just had them for Thanksgiving, and 2) she wanted a more original selection to choose from.

     I can hear her getting everything ready, and then I hear: smack, Smack, SMACK!

     "Ahh... hmm..." my Dad says. Click, click, click.! Smack, smack, smack! My Dad still has all his choppers, so I don't know why he makes those clicking and smacking noises.
     Anyway...
     "Wooweee, are you having pumpkin pie? Yeah, boy, I like pumpkin pie."

     My Dad gets out of his--my--favorite chair and walks over to where his daughter-in-law is standing. He looks around all the kitchen counters making a big show of looking for the pie.

     "Where is it?" he asks.

     "Weeell," my wife says slowly to the wrench in her carefully-planned works, "I wasn't planning on making any pumpkin pie. We just had it for Thanksgiving. Remember how I had to throw most of it away because no one was eating it?"

     She was trying to be diplomatic, but diplomacy is the not-so-irresistible force to my Dad's immovable object (his head). He's Hitler to Britain's Neville Chamberlain. He's Iran to Obama's John Kerry. He's pumpkin pie to my wife's dessert menu.

     "We have so many other desserts..." (and we do) "...that I wasn't planning on getting pumpkin pie."

     "Did you say pumpkin pie? Where is it? I don't see it."
     My Dad is conveniently hard of hearing when he wants to be.
     "Yeah, I like pumpkin pie," he goes on. "Great googly- moogly, I sure do like pumpkin pie."
     He didn't really say "googly-moogly," but he might as well have.
     Anyway...
     My wife looks at me. I'm no help. Remember that smile she gave me when I was trying to buff the floors? I give it back to her.

     "Well," she gives in, finally. My Dad has a way of wearing you down. "Do you reeeally want pumpkin pie?"

     "Welllll, ahhhhh, sure" my Dad says. "As long as you're asking, sure you should make one."
     Make one?
     Smack, smack, smack! "Ahhhhh..." Click, click, click! "Of course, it's Christmas, isn't it?"
     I don't know what this being Christmas has to do with buying a pumpkin pie, but it really doesn't matter.
     He walks back to his--my--favorite chair. His work is done.

     Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "If you want a pumpkin pie, how about offering to pay for it? Take out your wallet. Pull out a few shekels." Even if he did offered to pay, my wife wouldn't let him (heck, I wouldn't either), but it's the courtesy behind the offer that would count.

     So, yesterday, Dec. 24, we went out, fought all the holiday traffic, fought the crowds, fought the jerks in the parking lot, and parked two football fields away from the store...
     ...and bought my Dad his pumpkin pie.
     My Dad, who will probably have only one thin slice ("Don't serve me a big slice. You always make it too big.), and he probably won't even finish that. We'll probably end up throwing it away, like we did with the Thanksgiving pie he didn't eat.
     Meanwhile, we already have a cornucopia of delicious desserts for tomorrow. From dozens of different kinds of cookies and pastries, to fudge, popcorn, pudding, pumpkin empanadas (fold-overs), and carrot cake. Not to mention candy, candy, and even more candy. On and on.
     And now we have a pumpkin pie so large it can feed 20 people, because we couldn't find one any smaller. All because of my Dad.
     And all at my expense.

 

 

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