It is fair to say that I spend every waking moment (at least those moments when I am not worrying about my children, thinking about my husband, and obsessing about my Circus Peanuts addiction), trying to figure out a way to convince my father that he and my mother should move to New Jersey.
Given the absurdly high taxes, the ridiculous cost of auto insurance, and our poor gubernatorial track record I have before me quite a challenge. With each visit, I shower him with peanut M&Ms and root beer floats, I pepper his suite with mints, reading materials, and Southern New Jersey Living circulars, and I work to convince them him that there is no better place to retire than in a little rancher I build in our backyard.
So far...no luck.
Despite my limited progress, my resolve has not waned. And here is why:
1) I am 32 years old and he still calls me "Muffet Marie".
2) My daughter lives to "zurbert" him and my son prefers his arms to mine when he has the option.
3) Their is no one's advice I would trust more.
4) Like his father before him, the man can pack a car with the precision of a neurosurgeon.
5) He has the greatest laugh.
6) He can still beat my brothers in a wrestling match; even when it is two against one.
7) Though I inherited none of his nuclear engineering genes, my father can figure out anything (whether it is some high tech device or assembling a Barbie car or the Millenium Falcon).
8) He believes in second chances.
9) He served his country for 27 years.
10) He loves my mother more with each passing year.
11) He loves his children through stumbles and success.
12) He made me promise to always stay five, and then loved me anyway when I continued to grow.
Wishing my father all the love "a sailor's only daughter" can send, by blog or by embrace.
Happy Father's Day!
(I am trying to convince John to put his Home Depot gift card toward the finishing of our basement a la in-law suite).
1 comment:
Although I never want to go back in time because of all the great things that life has brought since then (all nine of them), do miss life the time when Paul was ten, Michael was seven and the Muffet Marie was five.
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