He is part adult, part baby. He is emotional, overly emotional, passionately emotional. He can be selfish. He is stubborn. He smokes. He drinks too much. He is a terrible driver. He is argumentative. He is dedicated to his family – too much so. His crazy antics are the reason why the grey hairs on my now blonde head appear more often than they ought. Only him.
On a good day he is an acceptable human being. He likes to clean. He likes to cook. He likes me. On a good day.
On a bad day it is clear that I have upset the Gods and they have sent this demon monster to me as punishment for my wrongdoing. My mother in law had a ‘whacking stick’ that she used on the stray cats if they made their way a little too close to the front door of her house. I had also seen her use her ‘whacking stick’ on both The Turk and his brothers more than one. I have decided I need a ‘whacking stick’. I will keep it next to the front door where I keep the slippers for visitors. If The Turk gets a little out of control I can grab my ‘whacking stick’ and wield it around like a big ass shiny sword.
In case you are wondering my Dad actually did like The Turk. Not at first. Not when you get his only daughter “knocked up” but he came around eventually. He didn’t love him but he liked him all the same. He said we were “well matched” and “both as ridiculous as each other”. There you have it.
Daughter has another ear infection. Her own fault. She runs around in mid riff tops and cut off shorts most of the time and she will not take the medicine prescribed by the Doctor. Last night she was very, very sick. Ear aches. Stomach aches. You name it, she was suffering from it. The Turk aka the most childish, spoilt, overly emotional pain in my ass that every existed spent the night sitting next to Daughter’s bed. If the blankets were pushed off he put them back on. Is it too hot? He adjusted the air con (incidentally it is too bloody hot). When she woke uneasily after a disjointed dream he shushed her back to sleep. He offered to sing to her at one point but I heard her shout “NO”, we only need one rock star in the family after all.
I still need a whacking stick but perhaps I will not need to use one today. Not today.
Doting Dad, he worries and it goes with the territory.
To hell with the whacking stick though, a frying pan works just as well. My great gran had one specially for the deed….. thick cast iron, with the rings on the bottom which were imprinted on victim’s buttocks on occasion. Great Gran was 4 foot something, and Great Gramps 6’7, but even he didn’t escape!
(Neither did sister’s 6′ 5 boyfriend actually when Mum had her own, and all he did was undo her pinny at the kitchen sink once too often!)
You always make me giggle. I can picture your Great Gran chasing yr Great Granddad around!
They were a terrific couple from what I can remember.
She was a dab hand at flicking you with the tea towel as well!
This is a beautiful post 🙂 I hope he reads it and appreciates the very nice things you’re saying about him (this whacking stick is just subterfuge).