It's been this way as long as I can remember. I mean... when you're a kid, you get the cute stuff- ponies, unicorns, puppies, etc. But at some age, my dad's sisters unleashes all their wit and decidedly dark humor on you. And once you've recovered from the initial shock you begin to school yourself, year after year, in their ways. Always trying to get that one up on one of them. Usually the middle one. Don't scoff at me, Auntie... you know who you are.
What can I say? It's a thing.
Well anyway, this year, I didn't manage to get a card for The Bob's birthday (today). Alas- despite my best efforts, cards in Norway are mostly in Norwegian... and don't actually seem to be that funny. Or mean. Apparently on birthdays, Norwegians are considerably kinder than Seyfrieds.
In the meantime, what I did get him is a present to take the place of an AOW card....
Now let me explain something. I had a couple of different possibilities lined up (from this website because I like it's agenda) but ultimately went with this one. Much to my husband's surprise:
|The Thinking Man's The Bob.|
Likely planning global coup.
Me: "You don't think so?"
Steven: "No way. He'd never wear that."
Me: "I think you're underestimating my father's abject adoration of me." (To be fair, I may be overestimating the same, but I doubt it).
Steven: *snorts* "I don't think so..."
Me: "Place bets?"
Needless to say, it went downhill from there.
But here's the thing. It's true that my beloved father is not exactly the most cuddly creature on the planet.* And I swear I'm not being an awful daughter in saying that... I mean, I think he's a big ole' teddy bear, and Henry thinks so too. (But that's because somewhere along the line The Bob learned how to Jedi Mind Trick my dog which led to the abject adoration of Henry for The GrandBob.)
*Which is why this is literally the perfect birthday present for him.
He's not real big on obvious displays of affection, but a few fortunate and challenging souls have managed to cajole him into a hug-in-public a time or two.
And I will bet dollars to donuts that The Bob will, in fact, wear that.
And ideally with the fifteen inch machete I got him for his 64th birthday- which in reality may have actually been the perfect birthday present for him.
If you manage to run into him on his big day you should probably hug him.
Or not, it's your call. But I'm pretty sure if you try, he'll curse me a little, pat you on the back, and then drop you. Careful, his kung fu is out of control.
Happy Birthday, Daddy... and here's to many many more.