If you’re reading this, you probably know that my elderly dad lives with us. You might also know he’s a rather frail 78 and that his hearing isn’t so great.
We got home from a beach vacation late Saturday night. When my neighbor called to ask for a couple of eggs Sunday morning, I still hadn’t been to the store. (And yes, a public thanks to my sister, who had the fridge stocked with dinner for the weary travelers. Oh, and she had picked up the dog. And taken care of my dad. And sorted the mail. So yeah, she’s kind of a saint.)
Anyway, my daughter answered the phone, and told my neighbor that we didn’t have eggs but that my dad did. So she went down to his apartment, and I could hear the conversation.
Caroline (shouting): Hi, Grumpy. Can I please have two eggs?
My dad: Of course, Caroline. They're right here. Come with me.
Caroline: Oh, Grumpy, don’t get up. But...they’re in your bedroom?
My dad: Yes, in my top dresser drawer.
Caroline: Eggs, Grumpy? You keep eggs in your dresser?
My dad: Yes. Here you go.
And he gave Caroline two double A batteries.
Caroline: Um, thanks, Grumpy.
My dad, beaming: So happy I had them!
Caroline: Me too, Grumpy. Me too.