Somehow... someway... I don't know how he did it, but my Dad found one of his great-grandson's Christmas gifts.
I bought my grandson a dual-propeller helicopter a few months ago and hid it in plain sight. I actually wanted it for me, but, since I'm too old to play with toys, I have to pretend it's for him.
Anyway, my better half became suspicious when my father was in his room all by himself in the middle of the day. You see, my father is very rarely in his room. If he wants to take a nap, he'll just plop himself himself down in the middle of everybody and their monkey, and expect the world to come to a standstill so he can sleep. He usually remembers to wear his pants, but sometimes he forgets.
My wife became suspicious because, you know how it is with children, when you hear them go quiet you know they're up to something.
Well... my father was being quiet.
"Are you okay, Dad?" my wife called out as she opened his door.
She was afraid to look, because we've recently heard about some children who caught their elderly parents having sex in an old folk's home, so she didn't know what kind of gross thing he might surprise her with.
"Hunh? Ah? Wha?" my Dad said.
"Are you okay?"
She could see that he was standing over his bed with his back to her, messing around with something.
"Yeah, yeah... I'm okay," he said, shifting his body to block her point of view.
"What are you doing?"
"Me? Ah, hmmm... nothing."
My father was trying to open a box and was very concerned with what was inside of it. He could see that it was some kind of a mechanical mechanism with metalic parts, but he just could not figure out what it was. He must have thought ISIS had left it there.
"Um... what are you doing, Dad?" my wife asked him again, recognizing the box in front of him.
He told her he had found the box and that it contained a very complex machine. He wanted to figure out what it was, but first he had to figure out how to get it out of its cardboard container.
When my father was twelve-years-old, his uncle used to let him borrow his car IF my father would keep up with the mechanical stuff. In those days, my father could take apart a piece of machinery and put it back together better than before. Today, my father was having trouble opening a box.
Life is cruel.
"Where did you find it?" she asked him, knowing that I had my grandson's Christmas gift hidden in the closet out of reach of my grandson.
"I was looking for something," he told her, not really answering her question.
"You were looking for something?"
"Right."
"What?"
"What?"
"Yes, what?"
"Did you say 'what'?"
"Yes, what were you looking for?"
"What was I looking for, you say?"
My wife looked at him with those steely eyes of hers. Eyes that have brought lesser men to tears. (Not me, of course.) My Dad shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and then back again.
"I was looking for my dog," he tells her.
"You were looking for your dog?" she sputtered.
"Yeah, why?"
"Why were you looking in the closet for your dog?"
"What closet? I wasn't looking in the closet."
"You must have been looking in the closet, because that's where we hid the box."
"What? Oh, yeah, I was looking in the closet. Sometimes my dog likes to go in there."
For the record, his dog has NEVER gone into that closet.
"How did he get to the top shelf?"
My wife was just teasing him now. She knew that the box was hidden in the top shelf of the closet toward the back.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, that's where we had our grandson's Christmas gift hidden. How did your dog get up there?"
My Dad hemmed and hawed, trying to come up with an answer. My wife eventually felt sorry for him, and changed the subject. Sort of. She was annoyed to find out that he was snooping around through our closets, but as long as she didn't find him in her underwear drawer, she could put up with it.
"Your son bought that," she told him.
"Who?"
"Your son."
"What about my son?"
"He bought that."
"Bought what?"
"Bought that toy."
"Toy? It's a toy, you say?"
"It's a toy for our grandson, Dad," she told him.
"A what?"
"A toy."
"It doesn't look like a toy."
"Well, that's what it is."
"What?"
"A toy."
"It's a toy?"
"Yes, a toy."
"It sure doesn't look like a toy."
After fifteen, but more like twenty, minutes of explaining to him that it was a toy for his great-grandson, he finally answered, "You don't have to tell me what it is. I know a toy when I see one. But who's it for?"
"It's for your great-grandson."
"I have a great-grandson?"
Actually, if he wanted to count how many great-grandchildren he has on one hand, he'd have to pull down his zipper, that's how many he has.
Anyway, my better half became suspicious when my father was in his room all by himself in the middle of the day. You see, my father is very rarely in his room. If he wants to take a nap, he'll just plop himself himself down in the middle of everybody and their monkey, and expect the world to come to a standstill so he can sleep. He usually remembers to wear his pants, but sometimes he forgets.
My wife became suspicious because, you know how it is with children, when you hear them go quiet you know they're up to something.
Well... my father was being quiet.
"Are you okay, Dad?" my wife called out as she opened his door.
She was afraid to look, because we've recently heard about some children who caught their elderly parents having sex in an old folk's home, so she didn't know what kind of gross thing he might surprise her with.
"Hunh? Ah? Wha?" my Dad said.
"Are you okay?"
She could see that he was standing over his bed with his back to her, messing around with something.
"Yeah, yeah... I'm okay," he said, shifting his body to block her point of view.
"What are you doing?"
"Me? Ah, hmmm... nothing."
My father was trying to open a box and was very concerned with what was inside of it. He could see that it was some kind of a mechanical mechanism with metalic parts, but he just could not figure out what it was. He must have thought ISIS had left it there.
"Um... what are you doing, Dad?" my wife asked him again, recognizing the box in front of him.
He told her he had found the box and that it contained a very complex machine. He wanted to figure out what it was, but first he had to figure out how to get it out of its cardboard container.
When my father was twelve-years-old, his uncle used to let him borrow his car IF my father would keep up with the mechanical stuff. In those days, my father could take apart a piece of machinery and put it back together better than before. Today, my father was having trouble opening a box.
Life is cruel.
"Where did you find it?" she asked him, knowing that I had my grandson's Christmas gift hidden in the closet out of reach of my grandson.
"I was looking for something," he told her, not really answering her question.
"You were looking for something?"
"Right."
"What?"
"What?"
"Yes, what?"
"Did you say 'what'?"
"Yes, what were you looking for?"
"What was I looking for, you say?"
My wife looked at him with those steely eyes of hers. Eyes that have brought lesser men to tears. (Not me, of course.) My Dad shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and then back again.
"I was looking for my dog," he tells her.
"You were looking for your dog?" she sputtered.
"Yeah, why?"
"Why were you looking in the closet for your dog?"
"What closet? I wasn't looking in the closet."
"You must have been looking in the closet, because that's where we hid the box."
"What? Oh, yeah, I was looking in the closet. Sometimes my dog likes to go in there."
For the record, his dog has NEVER gone into that closet.
"How did he get to the top shelf?"
My wife was just teasing him now. She knew that the box was hidden in the top shelf of the closet toward the back.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, that's where we had our grandson's Christmas gift hidden. How did your dog get up there?"
My Dad hemmed and hawed, trying to come up with an answer. My wife eventually felt sorry for him, and changed the subject. Sort of. She was annoyed to find out that he was snooping around through our closets, but as long as she didn't find him in her underwear drawer, she could put up with it.
"Your son bought that," she told him.
"Who?"
"Your son."
"What about my son?"
"He bought that."
"Bought what?"
"Bought that toy."
"Toy? It's a toy, you say?"
"It's a toy for our grandson, Dad," she told him.
"A what?"
"A toy."
"It doesn't look like a toy."
"Well, that's what it is."
"What?"
"A toy."
"It's a toy?"
"Yes, a toy."
"It sure doesn't look like a toy."
After fifteen, but more like twenty, minutes of explaining to him that it was a toy for his great-grandson, he finally answered, "You don't have to tell me what it is. I know a toy when I see one. But who's it for?"
"It's for your great-grandson."
"I have a great-grandson?"
Actually, if he wanted to count how many great-grandchildren he has on one hand, he'd have to pull down his zipper, that's how many he has.
Later that night, after finishing the five-star dinner my wife is always gracious enough to cook for him, his eyes pop out and he gets a Halloween look on his face. He's still not done with us.
"Ah, hey!" he exclaims loudly, his muppet-like arms flying all over the place.
My wife and I look at each other.
"Hey now, how about some ice cream?"
"Did you want some ice cream, Dad?" my wife asks him politely.
My father ignores her question.
"Where's my ice cream?" he demands. "Aren't you going to give me some ice cream?"
"Ah, hey!" he exclaims loudly, his muppet-like arms flying all over the place.
My wife and I look at each other.
"Hey now, how about some ice cream?"
"Did you want some ice cream, Dad?" my wife asks him politely.
My father ignores her question.
"Where's my ice cream?" he demands. "Aren't you going to give me some ice cream?"
"If that's what you want," my wife tells him.
"Damn right, that's what I want," he says. "Mumble, mumble, mumble ice cream."
My wife serves him his ice cream with a little bit of the magic dust his doctor prescribed as a topping. Twenty minutes later, my father is sound asleep like a baby in front of the TV.
The magic dust helps him, but it also helps us.
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
jimduchene.blogspot.com American Chimpanzee
@JimDuchene
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