He blatantly favors Ellen, right in front of me.
Suppose I take care of one of Dad's yard chores for him while he's away on business.
"Look what your sweetest child did today." Mom would say to him, pointing at my stellar performance.
"Oh!" he'll say with delight. "Remind me to call Ellen to thank her."
If there's any mention of his good and faithful daughter, Dad finds a way to attach Ellen's name to the label. "She's always helping out around the house." Mom will tell a friend at a dinner party. "She so thoughtful."
"Yeah." Dad will add. "Ellen's really something."
Say I make a suggestions about dinner... "Well, Ellen doesn't like asparagus."
"But I do!" I'll tell him. "I love asparagus. I'd really like asparagus."
"Let's call and see what Ellen wants." he replies.
This list goes on.
To date, the most appalling offense took place when Ellen came over one random, unimportant afternoon. She rang the doorbell and I got up to let her in. As I walked down the hallway, Dad stomped towards me shouting, "Ellen's here! Ellen's here!" and as he ran up behind me, he shoved me sideways into the wall, tripping up my feet, and barreling past me to open the front door. I stood dumbfounded as he hugged her and carried in her purse.
Why am I telling you this? Because Dad topped himself this weekend.
Since both Ellen and I were out of town for our birthdays this year, we requested a joint birthday celebration at our Sunday dinner this week. Really, we just wanted a cake. Mom foolishly put Dad in charge of the birthday cake and after another chart topping dinner by Chris, Ellen and I were presented with this offense...
I wasn't even surprised. Nothing new here. The bit never gets old.
Dad chuckles softly at his own genius and quickly made an insulting addendum to the dessert.
This could really damage a gal. Dad is so lucky I don't have feelings.
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