what it’s like to have me as your offspring

this afternoon, in the truck with my dad (yes, i do work. but my car needed to go to the car doctor because i do not appreciate him going caput in the middle of the road)

“so i’ve already started to plan out my garden.”-me
“lowes has seeds out, but i was thinking of going to myers to pick up some stuff.”-paternal unit
“okay. i’ll go with you if you want.”
“you can plant snap peas next month. and you should measure everything out instead of eye balling it.”
“ok. i’ll do that. cause we know i can’t make a straight line to save my life.” (dad smiles)
“sounds good.”
“you know what dad? i picked a really constructive hobby, aside from working out.”
“oh yeah?”
“yeah. perfectionism is entirely allowed and totally encouraged. and it benefits all parties.”

later…after my run, i was doing leg raises and talking to my parents…

“dad, can you bring me back my very own rastafarian from jamaica?”
“you mean you don’t want blue mountain coffee?”
“you’re the best dad in the whole world.”
“um…okay?”
“you just offered me coffee. it’s like you’re my drug dealer.”
“so you want coffee?”
“um. duh. no decaf. has to be caffeinated. please and thanks.”
“and what’s a rastafarian?”
“dude with the rainbow hat, dreads and says ‘ya mon.'”
“your father cannot understand what they are saying. and we’re not bringing one of those back for you. i doubt it’d clear customs” -mom

yes. daily conversation. sometimes i think my dad looks at me, and probably my mom too, and thinks, “who’s genetics did you get? you are not normal.”

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