The following is a pretty solid example of a typical conversation between Paps and myself.
We start off with a random topic which invariably deteriorates into both of us indignantly yelling at one another over the most inconsequential minutiae:
Paps: You were a cranky child as a toddler. Once, I forgot to tape Sesame Street for you and you kicked up a fuss like it was the end of the civilized world.
Me: Maybe because you were impeding my education? I learned how to count and read because of that show!
Paps: You were a drama queen.
Me: WHAT?! I am NOT a drama queen.
Paps: Mom says you were a good child; I know different.
Me: That’s because Mom is honest and reasonable.
Paps: Don’t talk to me!
Me: Hey, if you weren’t making up stuff left and right…
Paps: Mud Blood.
Me: HEY! We do not use that word!
Left of field text message at 8:00am which resulted in Paps insulting me using lexicon from Harry Potter.
This sheer idiocy reminds me of my new favorite thing — the Google commercial featuring Jess and Elliot.
I’ve watched this about 15 times this week and every single time, I get all sniffly because it makes me feel ALL the feelings. Go ahead and watch it. I’ll wait.
ALL OF THE FEELINGS, RIGHT?
Go on — get a Kleenex and a glass of water.
This video also makes me miss Paps.
We video-chat just like we text and talk – with desultory arguing and idiocy.
With me yelling, “Oh my God. OH. MY. GOD. I want to talk to Mom! MO-OOM! He’s talking and doing things and being the way he’s being again,” and with Paps yelling, “That’s it! Talk to your mom! Here! Prafulla! Talk to your daughter!”
But every single one of these stupid conversations – all sound and fury signifying nothing – just helps reiterate that I am my father’s daughter.
And my father? He’s the most incredible man I know.
And I’d probably believe that even if I wasn’t his kid.
And admitting that on my blog is probably a dummy move because dude’s got a head the size of a zeppelin to begin with, but hey — I’m a thousand miles away and good men deserve a little credit every now and then.
Love you, Paps.
Your mouthy smart-ass kid. The one who does not understand how you went from not being allowed to eat spicy food to eating Thai bird peppers with your dinner. That makes no sense! None! How does that not give you heartburn? It’s bereft of logic and I swear you just make up your own dietary restrictions to be difficult.