by the Mall Diva
…just another service he offers.
Ahh, the Crooked Spoon. We were hungry after a long hike. My feet were tired. My mom, sister, and I had left my father at the bar down the street to watch the game end. Sitting at our table, I tried not to fall asleep. We perused our menus and decided what we wanted. There were only a few people in the restaurant.
We didn’t have to wait too long before my father walked in. He seemed to be in a rather jovial mood. We ordered our food and then he shared his story of the man who had “played football before” and the other who was giving himself a pedicure at the bar. *Shudder* Anyway, after a while our appetizer came. It was goat-cheese-and-spinach dip (sounds great, no?) with pita bread. Our pita bread ran out before our dip did. We asked for more pitas, but that took forever, so we were eating the dip with our forks. When our bread finally came, there pretty much wasn’t any dip left…except what my dad had scooped onto his plate earlier. My mom tried to take some, which resulted in my dad getting territorial. Like an animal. Actually, like an ape. “Ooh ooh ooh!” (How do you spell what an ape says, anyways?)
My mom was taken aback, but my sister and I started laughing. She should have told us not to encourage him, because he kept it up all through dinner- playing with his food, beating his chest and scratching his butt like monkeys do. Well, maybe he didn’t really go that far; but whatever. He was scaring the other customers, alright? Because by this time, the restaurant was full. I saw the people behind my dad glance over a couple times, wondering what the heck was going on. I just kept laughing. I was tired, it was funny! We were really starting to wonder just how many beers he’d actually had beforehand.
That is one family vacation memory I will not forget. I’m scarred for life. Darwin would be so proud.
Mmmmmm, goat cheese and spinach dip. I’d gladly act like an ape to have some of that right now. Ungh! Ungh! (Beats chest) Ouch!!
Hey! I mean, “ouwk, ouwk!” Please note that I was the only one with the manners and grace to take some goat cheese and spinach (mmmm!) dip on a plate to avoid double-dipping, and it was someone else who encroached on MY plate after you all PIGGED out on the dip because you couldn’t demonstrate a little self-control. And you forgot to mention how tenderly (“ouwk, ouwk” is a very versatile phrase) I offered the last bit of carrot cake and whipped cream to your mother.
And I never picked my butt or thumped my chest (or picked my chest and thumped my butt).
OK, so dinner time antics and questionable table manors embarass you?….Just wait until Thanksgiving, the NW and I can tag team all of you!!!
Embarassing progeny is a parental right, written into some rule book, somewhere, I’m pretty sure.
I got an early start with my two, and the latest salvo in the kid embarassment campaign includes singing the PussyCat Dolls latest hit “Don’cha wish yer girlfriend was a FREAK like me…..” loud enough to be heard in the background as they talk to their girlfriends on the telephone.
Future embarassments will involve strutting by the swimming pool at the club dressed in the loudest most obnoxious golf attire I can find (I’ll borrow it from your grandfather) while your Missouri cousins are desperately trying to impress their friends with their coolness. Once I have everybody’s attention (not to mention disdain) I’ll say something like “Hey DUDES! Nice little POSSE you have here! Any of you PEPES want to go chase the little white ball around?!?” (this plan is evolving by the day, as the moment of execution has yet to present itself).
I’ve recently added to the arsenal an old purple speedo (with a hole in the “right cheek”)…just one of those yard sale treasures you run across from time to time.
So you see young Mall Diva, embarassing the kids is not just a “service” offered by fathers, it is a RESPONSIBILITY that requires thought, creativity, and just a little(?) bit of sadistic glee.
By the way, in THIS father’s house, we don’t call it embarassing the brats. We call it CHARACTER BUILDING ! ! !
p.s. Ongh Ongh Unk Ongh (snort)
You think that ‘Don’t Cha’ is a latest hit?
And I think you have the wrong idea about character building…..
“Dont cha” is the latest I can recognize…all the rest is just noise.
And “character building” encompasses so much more than embarassing the kids….lawn mowing, wood hauling, bathroom cleaning, etc are just a few of the building blocks.
A good butt whuppin’ doesn’t hurt either (not me at least….though I prefer to call it cardiovascular exercise).
It could have been worse, MD. At least your dad wasn’t flinging poo.
(He wasn’t, right?)
Uhh…no, thank God.
At least you know your dad isn’t a hippo, then. Or was it away from the water?
I can’t wait until my kids are in their teens and I can pull stuff like this. I’m in training already, telling them that I’ve got to remove their “baby nose” so their “permanent nose” can grow in.