It's Pick On Grandpa Day?

My dad came over for dinner the other night. My mom is visiting friends out of town, and he likes to just spend some time with them. I think he may have regretted it after that night's dinner. It did start off rather innocently, though.

Grandpa, Little Miss looked at him with worship in her eyes, Mommy told me that you were in the Army when you were in the war. And you had a gun then, too!

Yes, Little Miss. I was in the Army during the war, he nodded at her.

She paused for a moment, squinting at him - wheels visibly turning. That was a long time ago, wasn't it? I don't think they let you in the Army if you have wrinkles. Did you have wrinkles when you were in the Army, Grandpa?

As he stifled a snort, my dad agreed that yes, it was a long time ago, and yes, he was younger then with no wrinkles.

And Grandpa, when you were in the Army, you didn't have grey hair, right? And you had all your hair? Because they don't let people with grey hair into the Army either, I don't think.

My dad gave up at that point, me along with him. We tried to keep it to small, subtle chortles, but we failed miserably.

Mister Man had been observing the conversation and thinking, as well. Not to be outdone:

Grandpa, sometimes you lie to me, he asserted, looking serious.

What? No, I don't lie to you, Kiddo! my dad looked taken aback.

You do, Grandpa, you do! You told me that you get grey hair because of things I do to scare you. That's not true. You have grey hair just because you're really old! And no amount of reasoning could convince him otherwise.

My poor dad.

Giveaways:
Family 4 pack of tickets to Toy Story 3 on ice in Chicago here
Win one of two copies of Avatar in Blu-Ray here
Monster Truck Jam family 4 pack of tickets in Chicago here

My Mom Makes Me Giggle

My mom and I are fairly alike in some things, especially when it comes to eating. It's because of her that I don't eat peanut butter or green peppers. Like her, I need to have clutter removed from my space to function well (ok, not quite as much as her). And I am constantly overcommitting myself, just like her.

But then there are times when I see how different we are. My mom can't remember song lyrics to save her life but still sings. To this day, I sing, "Lullabye and goodnight let you sweet song deliiiiight. Hushabye and good night, let your weary eyes fall down." I know those aren't the words, but I've never heard the correct words, and those are the only ones I know.

My mom readily admits to some of her entertaining characteristics. And there are some days when I really notice them. Like today.

You know, I really worry about those poor boys and girls.

Uhhh, what poor boys and girls, Mom?

The ones who don't asked to the Homecoming dance and will be sitting home instead.

Uhhh, ok.

We don't know anyone in high school. I didn't know it was Homecoming weekend before this non sequitor. Oh, and I don't think that the people who aren't going to the Homecoming dance are necessarily that crushed by it. But this has officially made it to my mom's worry list.

A few minutes later, she was reading an Australian book about crocodiles to Little Miss.

'And now you're safe my little poppet.' Do you know what a poppet is, Little Miss?

No, what is it, Grandma?

A poppet is a baby alligator.

Uhh, Mom. a) you're reading about crocodiles, not alligators. And b) a poppet is a British term of endearment, not a baby crocodile.

Yep, that's my mom. Passing her special brand of quirkiness on to the next generation. We love her anyway!

Ahhh, The Good Life

We had dinner with my parents for Mother's Day, as I'm sure many others did as well. During dinner, the conversation somehow moved toward future careers. Little Miss declared that she was going to be an animal doctor, just like Auntie M.

Mister Man decided he had a different career path.

Mister Man: I think I want to be a teacher (just like Daddy - too bad the pension won't be there anymore!).
Me: Oh, that's a good job.
Grandpa: Don't you want my job?
Mister Man: No, I don't think I'd want my kids watching that.

The faces around the table were all puzzled except for mine. I was dying of laughter because I figured out where his little brain was going.

Me: You mean you don't want them watching as much television as Grandpa does?
Mister Man: No, it really isn't healthy to watch so much tv. And I want my kids to be healthy.
Grandpa: So you think my job is to watch tv?
Mister Man: Yeah. Well, that and to control the weather.
Grandpa: I control the weather?
Mister Man: Isn't that why you have the Weather Channel on all the time, too?

Touche, Mister Man. Touche. And no, Grandpa didn't really have a good answer for that.