Birthday Week

Last Tuesday was Moppy’s birthday. Ellen brought over a tiny little cake and I forced the four of us to go have lunch. Mom likes having lunch. 

While Mom got dressed, Ellen and I played in the living room.

And then Buddy and I wrestled.

Mom was not excited about her birthday and did not have much to say about it at all, though she reminds us every night that it is “birthday week” and we should therefore cater to her every desire.

As for the Old Man, he’s kept busy moving things, going to meetings, and taking phone calls. When he comes home at night he slaps, pops, and flicks Mom and me and then laughs manically and runs away. He is on a “sensible eating plan” and has changed his snack foods to different but equally fattening treats. Though we try to explain why something is still not a healthy option, he ignores us and insists that we are wrong.

Best of all I have a small collection of Dad Language flubs.
In the last few days he's mentioned the male "testesterone", the "Eboli" virus, and he referred to a foolish blunder as a "poe fa." I believe faux pas was the goal there.

My favorite was a comment he made to me while he was pulling a nail out of the stud in the wall. I’d been tugging on this nail for days and finally had to get him to come over and pull it out. He got a pair of pliers, grabbed onto the nail, and pulled and pulled.

“Can you get it?” I asked him.

 “Oh yes.” and he began grunting while he pulled. “It’s just one stud fighting another.” he said. 

And we laughed and laughed.