I know it’s not Father’s Day, but I’d been thinking about him lately, and even though he’s a pretty busy guy, I called my dad tonight and actually got to talk to him and not his voicemail. This rarely happens, and so he inspired me to write a little something.
A lot of people say I look like my mom. My Grams and I have a lot of similar characteristics. The fact that she is younger than your average grandma means I often get mistaken for her daughter. I’m not really sure what my dad looks like. I grew up without a father, but about twenty years ago I got a Dad. We might not look a like. Actually, it’s horrible that when we go out people often think he’s my husband. Talk about gross. I’m not sure anything is more embarrassing when you’re a teenager.
However, after two decades together, we do act alike. I find myself singing off-key tunes about my surroundings like I’m living in a broadway production, even though I used to roll my eyes at his musical numbers. I have no shame. This I get from him. I will dance in front of my kids’ school or in the middle of a crowded store. (After ten years, my kids are immune to this, but my friends’ kids are quick to act like they don’t know me and beg me to stop.) I will dance in the rain when other people run for cover. I am not too old to jump on trampoline or play hide and seek, and I don’t think I ever will be. My crazy antics and childlike ways are all from my dad.
The practical joker inside of me definitely didn’t come from my mom. We all have that one friend that is constantly jumping out shouting “BOO!” and trying to make us pee our pants. Well, I am that friend. I get it honest, though. Now my dad lives seven time zones away, so I have to settle for torturing my husband…with love.
Like the time we shared a Spotify account (this is probably how I ended up getting my own premium account), and I added this pop song that he absolutely LOATHES randomly to his over 100 playlists, if the playlist was really long, I’d add it twice. He spent over a year removing it, and I’m sure there’s still a couple hanging around. My dad used to throw random things in the grocery cart while my mom wasn’t looking, we’d have cart races, and play “football” in the aisles with a roll of paper towels. In hindsight, this is probably how he ended up never having to go with my mom to the grocery store.
I say the same smart aleck responses that my dad uses. The same annoyingly parental unit come backs.
Oh, Hi, Hungry. I’m Elle. Nice to meet you.
What’s for dinner?
What kind of food?
The kind you eat.
Believe me, I face-palm myself even thinking about it. I stop myself sometimes and go: How did this happen? I grew up groaning over these antics. I suppose eventually we all grow up to become our parents. The things that made your eyes want to roll back into your head while you sighed so hard you almost blew the house down? Yeah…one day you’ll do and say those things. I used to stop short and shake my head, but I’ve come to embrace them. Maybe one day my children will pass on the Starving Brain Sucker to my grandchildren.
Love and Cheese,