Dad's World of Dad About Dad For Dad

Maybe he's 95 and entitled to be self-centered and inconsiderate.

Doesn't make it any less annoying.

I fix myself a salad, Dad comes into the kitchen, sticks his nose into my salad and yells in my ear, "WHAT'S THAT?!" And before I can answer, he says, "IS THAT A SALAD?" And before I can answer that, he says, "PUT SOME BEETS ON IT!" (I hate beets. He knows this.) And before I can remind him (again) that I don't like beets, he says, "DON'T YOU LIKE BEETS?" Then, before he can dis on my salad anymore, I grab a fork and my beet-less salad and flee to the relative solitude of my office. This, or something very similar, happens more frequently than I can tell you.

I buy two of Amy's Green Tamales and put them in the garage freezer. A couple of days ago, I brought one into the house freezer so I could have it later in the week. This morning, Dad wheels into the kitchen and says, "HEY! I ATE THAT TAMALE LAST NIGHT FOR DINNER..." And before I can explain that that tamale was, in fact, for me, he proclaims, "DON'T GET IT AGAIN! IT WAS TERRIBLE!"

A few weeks ago, I took a stick of butter out of the fridge, unwrapped it, and set it out on a plate, on the counter so I could make cookies later on in the day. Dad wheeled into the kitchen, somehow homed right in on that solitary stick of butter setting on the kitchen counter, wheeled over, picked it up, took a big ole bite out of it and said, "WHAT KIND OF CHEESE IS THIS?!" (eeyup. He seriously did this.) Then he complained, "IS THIS CHEESE? HUH?! TERRIBLE! DON'T GET IT AGAIN! NO FLAVOR!" And then, and this is the most infuriating part, he threw it into the trash.

So, okay, Dad is 95. He's old. He's oblivious to most of what goes on around him because he can't hear or see most of what goes on around him. I love my dad. But chomping on my stick of butter without asking what it is first and then tossing it into the trash because you thought it was flavorless cheese is just plain annoying!