Early this morning my grandson and I are sitting on the floor of the great room and playing poker... using his rules.
He's only four, but he likes to stacks the cards in his favor.
"Hey," I'll tell him, "that's cheating."
"I like to win," he'll tell me back with the blunt logic of a four-year-old. He and Mr. Spock have a lot in common.
My Dad is sitting in his--my-- favorite chair. Cartoons are on the TV I never get to watch and things are running smoothly. That is, until I hear him say, "I better get up."
He's only four, but he likes to stacks the cards in his favor.
"Hey," I'll tell him, "that's cheating."
"I like to win," he'll tell me back with the blunt logic of a four-year-old. He and Mr. Spock have a lot in common.
My Dad is sitting in his--my-- favorite chair. Cartoons are on the TV I never get to watch and things are running smoothly. That is, until I hear him say, "I better get up."
No sooner does my Dad get up than--man-oh-man--the smell hit my nose. No, smell's not the right word because everything has a smell... the stink, stank, stunk hit my nose. It was a horrible odor. My eyes started to water, and we weren't even sitting that close. My Dad's little dog, who was sitting next to him, even jumped off the chair and ran off to replace the stench in his nostrils by sniffing our other dog's hind end.
I look at my grandson. He's wobbling back and forth, on the verge of passing out. Myself, I'm feeling kind of woozy. Thank God I'm sitting on the floor. It's a shorter trip for my head to the hard oak tiles should the lack of oxygen to my brain short-circuit my wiring. Meanwhile, my Dad just stands by the chair with a What the heck was THAT! look on his face. His eyes are bulging out and he's mumbling something I don't understand in my woozy condition.
His gas was too much even for him. I keep my eye on him to make sure he's not on his way to visit my mother in that great baseball stadium in the sky. I want to be sure riguermortus hasn't set in as he was standing there.
I look at my grandson. He's wobbling back and forth, on the verge of passing out. Myself, I'm feeling kind of woozy. Thank God I'm sitting on the floor. It's a shorter trip for my head to the hard oak tiles should the lack of oxygen to my brain short-circuit my wiring. Meanwhile, my Dad just stands by the chair with a What the heck was THAT! look on his face. His eyes are bulging out and he's mumbling something I don't understand in my woozy condition.
His gas was too much even for him. I keep my eye on him to make sure he's not on his way to visit my mother in that great baseball stadium in the sky. I want to be sure riguermortus hasn't set in as he was standing there.
It was time to walk away. Go somewhere, anywhere. I pull my Grandson into my arms, and stand up from my sitting position on the floor. Not an easy thing to do at my age, but when your life's at stake, you'll be surprised what you can do. Like that story of a lady picking up one side of a car, because her toddler was trapped underneath.
This isn't the first time my Dad hasn't been able to stand his own stench. There have been many, many times when I have seen him standing just outside the bathroom and swinging the door back and forth. He'll do this for several minutes. Just swinging it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... for five, ten minutes.
Meanwhile, I'm thinking as I watch him, Why doesn't he just close the door to the bathroom?
The bathroom has a fan, he can turn that on. The bathroom also has a window, he can open that. Just shut the door and let the smell leak out.
Meanwhile, I'm thinking as I watch him, Why doesn't he just close the door to the bathroom?
The bathroom has a fan, he can turn that on. The bathroom also has a window, he can open that. Just shut the door and let the smell leak out.
There's never been a time when I've used the bathroom or let one slip, that me or my dogs can't hang in there. When I'm done, I close the door and walk away.
My wife has occasionally made the mistake of going into the bathroom after I've used it. All this time, and she hasn't learned to avoid the bathroom if I shut the door behind me when I leave?
She'll immediately walk right out.
"Jeez Louise," she's said. "It smells like the devil's possessed your digestive system." Have I ever mentioned how funny my wife can be? "I'm going to have to call a priest to exorcise your bowels."
Yeah... she's funny.
My wife has occasionally made the mistake of going into the bathroom after I've used it. All this time, and she hasn't learned to avoid the bathroom if I shut the door behind me when I leave?
She'll immediately walk right out.
"Jeez Louise," she's said. "It smells like the devil's possessed your digestive system." Have I ever mentioned how funny my wife can be? "I'm going to have to call a priest to exorcise your bowels."
Yeah... she's funny.
Raising My Father
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jimduchene.BlogSpot.com Fifty Shades of Funny
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