You Said It, Mister!

Being a parent is a daily crushing blow to one’s self-confidence, but having parents is a daily battle not to commit parricide. My blog partner GD Frogsdong on his weekend with Momma and Poppa Frog:

Last night I wrote a step-by-step instruction for my mother on how to work the TV remote. I even drew up a picture and labeled the buttons “1”, “2”, “3”, etc., with arrows and stuff so she would be able to watch Regis and What’s-her-name-don’t-tell-me-her-name-I-don’t-really-care.

I got a call at work at 8:55 this morning.

“Frog? I’m sorry to bother you but I followed your instructions and the TV doesn’t work right.”

“What did you do?”

“I did exactly what you said.”

“What is on the screen?”

“It’s blank.”

“Is it blue?”

“Yes.”

“Press ’03’, then press the button labeled ‘Sat’. Make sure it lights up. It’s the number 3 button on the diagram. Then press ‘245’.”

“Okay…….it’s still blank.”

“Press ’03’. You have a picture back, right?”

“Yes.”

“Press the botton labeled ‘Sat’. Did it light up?”

“Yes.”

Okay, not to make this any more tedious than it is, she couldn’t quite get the concept of pressing the Satellite button until it lit up. Had to go through this entire routine three times before it lit up and she could watch Regis and Babette. Other than that, things are insane at my house. Crazy people are staying there. Is your mother a martyr? Mine is. “Mom, I’m cooking dinner.” “You don’t have to cook for me. I can have a cookie and that’s all I need.” “Mom, please eat something real.” “No, I don’t want you to have to wash a dish.” “Mom, it’s okay. We have plenty of dishes.” “That’s all right. I’ll just sit here and look at you.”

My father is the exact opposite. “You got any chocolate chip cookies?” “No.” “Well, it’s not raining too hard. And the store is close. You could walk to the store and be back with the cookies in fifteen minutes.”

Suddenly, I’m reminded that I chided Miss Sasha for moving to Florida during hurricane season but it sounded a whole lot like, “It’s so rude of you to set up house a thousand miles from where my son-in-law should be lugging my furniture from a truck to my living room.”

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