Dad

Thanks to my mother-in-law's introduction, I am a huge fan of Erma Bombeck's writing.

Love it!

After reading this article of her's earlier this week, I was pretty sure she had mistakenly written about my dad and not her own husband. Throw a few 'utilization dinners' and a chunky watermelon smoothie into the mix and it is 100% him! I couldn't resist posting a copy of it as an 'ode' of sorts for Father's Day.

Whether it's your dad or not, I hope you enjoy!

CONSOLIDATING CEREAL, ICE CREAM, COOKIES, ETC.

by Erma Bombeck December 8, 1974.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal this morning, and out dropped the weirdest array of raisins, flakes, oats, puffs and squares I have ever seen.

"Whatcha call this?" I asked one of the kids.

"Frosted, fortified, cracked Cranbran flakes."

I dropped my spoon and slumped. "Don’t tell me. Your father is on his annual crusade to consolidate all the empty boxes cluttering up the cupboards into one box!"

"Right," said my son. "If you think the cereal tastes rotten, you should dip into the ice cream. He found six cartons, each with a different flavor, with a spoonful left in each box, and put them into one bucket. It looks like someone spit up at Howard Johnson’s (ed. – Baskin Robbins)." "Please," I cautioned. "No more.”

"Not only that, he mixed all the cookies left lying around into one bag, and every time you reach in, it’s like trick or treat. You don’t know if you’re getting one baked this year or not." "I’ll speak to him," I said.

I found their father in the bathroom trying to siphon a cap of toothpaste into another tube. "I want to talk with you," I said. "If it’s about the jellies being mixed together into one jar, I think you’ll find the flavor rather interesting.

"It’s not just the jellies," I said. "You’re becoming paranoid about empty boxes." "What’s wrong with that?" he asked.

"You’re making skeptics out of the children. They don’t believe in anything anymore. They grabbed a box marked pretzels off the shelf the other night and sank their teeth into banana-flavored corn chips."

"The banana corn chips weren’t moving in their box," he said.

"That’s not the point. You do it with everything. Mother asked for an aspirin. I gave her one of the pills that you mixed together into one bottle. I didn’t know if it would cure her headache, sweeten her breath, dry up her cold, put her to sleep, make her regular again or control birth. I can’t go on living with a man who grafts soaps together in the soap dish and puts cake coloring in old shampoo and pours it into herbal shampoo bottles."

"Go on out and have your cereal," he said softly. "You’ll feel better after breakfast."

I checked the dog’s food supply. The box was full. I felt better already.

For this, and oh-so-many other reasons,

I love you so Daddy-o!