From the Aren’t You Glad You Didn’t Marry Someone Like Your Father files

I took the chocolate to work today and almost made myself sick scarfing it down at every opportunity…breakfast, 2nd breakfast, elevensies, etc. So I left the rest at work for the evening. It’s safer there.  My waistline will appreciate it, even if my cravings won’t.

We are babysitting my Dad for three weeks while my Mom is on vacation in England (No kids for a week and no Mom for three.  Uhm.  Yay!). He’s relatively low maintenance, we only have to make sure he’s got clean laundry, his fruit of choice in the fridge (Honeydew Melon) and something good for supper (ie: meat and potatoes. “Soup and sandwich is NOT supper, it’s lunch! Cereal for supper is a sin!”). His days consist of working, napping, eating, napping, watching TV and sleeping (not to be confused with napping).  For 37 years, my Mom has laid his breakfast out for him every morning.  Corn Flakes (sometimes Weetabix if he’s feeling jazzy), two slices of toast with butter and jam, orange juice and instant coffee.  Same menu since forever…easy right?  The only thing is there was no orange juice made so he asked me to take a can out of the freezer and make him some OJ.   He can handle the rest of the meal, as he learned how to work the toaster long ago when my Mom was in the hospital giving birth to me and my brothers.  Conversation from this morning, just as I’m about to leave for work:

Dad:  “Oh, the can’s still sitting here on the counter.  You didn’t make my orange juice.”

Me:  “No problem, it’ll just take two secs for me to make it.  Here, I’ll do it right now.”

Dad:  “Oh really, it’s that fast?  I thought you had to cook it or something.”

I love my Dad.  He’s so pretty…