Today, we had several hours of heavy rain followed by several hours of heavy snow. That's probably why, as we were getting ready for dinner tonight, our electricity went out. Without missing a beat, your dad put on a headlamp, gave you the light from his mountain bike, lit some candles, and kept fixing his plate. Similar to that old saying about mail carriers, neither rain nor snow nor dark of night will keep your dad from his appointed chicken taco.
Like all things that I find cold or tedious or inconvenient, you thought eating in the dark while holding a strobe light was awesome (Bonus: now we know you don't have epilepsy). In so many ways, you are exactly like your dad: If it's cold, make it colder. If it's broke, let's fix it. If it ain't broke, let's take it apart and determine why not. As they say in the South, "he spit you out." Sometimes, I think God made you look like me just to soften the blow.
After dinner, you got down from your high chair, walked over to the wall with the light switches, pointed up at the switches and grunted - as if to suggest that your dad and I are a couple of morons who can't be counted on to turn on the lights.
It was that attitude that got you put to bed 20 minutes early, young lady. That, and I was out of ways to entertain a toddler in the dark.
Love,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment