The Parent Trap

I am starting to get just the teensiest bit concerned about my parents. Oh, nothing serious. It's just that they're starting to have way too much fun at my expense.

It started when my father sent an e-mail saying his toaster was not making the bread too dark on one side. OK, he was making fun of me in the process and I can live with that.

But then the next day I get another e-mail with pictures of the toast. As if he felt he had to prove it wasn't browning evenly. Which means my mother had to get out the camera and take the photos.

I do have my doubts, though. If you look carefully at those pictures, it seems as if there is a hole in the toast in the first shot that isn't there in the second. Call me suspicious, but I don't think this evidence would hold up before a jury.

And then yesterday I rang home and Dad answered the phone, "Don's Toaster Shop". My mother thought it was all quite a hoot. But this story would have been much more interesting if it wasn't me on the other end.

Since I tend to call around the same time, they're probably relatively sure that it's safe to answer with a joke greeting. However, my mother slipped up the other day. She was sure it was me ringing and answered "Duffy's" only to have one her friend get quite confused that they hadn't connected with Norm and Red's phone. I think it serves her right for assisting my Dad with those pictures of the toast.

(For those of you born after Dwight Eisenhower was president, you probably don't get the reason for her answering "Duffy's". Duffy's Tavern was a radio show in the 40s and a TV series that ran in 1954. Every episode began with "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling". The song was interrupted by a telephone, which was answered, "Duffy's Tavern. Where the elite meet to eat."

Anyhow, I don't really mind my folks having fun at my expense. If you can still get them laughing when you're halfway around the world, then it's not such a bad thing.
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And before I stop with this post, I must tell you of an exchange I had with Linda this morning. It's got nothing to do with anything above, but I do think it will crack up my Dad`.

We were listening to the radio and some analyst started stating the bleeding obvious. "Looks like they're trying to teach granny to suck eggs," I said, as you do when you're talking about teaching something to someone who already knows it quite well.

But then it hit me. "LK," I said, "everyone assumes that grannies know how to suck eggs. You're a grandmother. But do you know how to suck eggs? I certainly don't."

She thought for a second and admitted she didn't know how to suck eggs. "No, I don't. But when we used to make those decorations for the little trees at Eastertime, I learned how to blow eggs."

See. You live with someone for a quarter of a century and you still don't know all of their hidden talents.