Background:I didn't have much to do with my old man from about the age of 6 until I was about 32. I grew up very angry towards him and on the few times our paths crossed (normally at a family funeral), I'd give him the old rubber ear. (Don't worry, my blog isn't going all soft and soppy on you)
Then, when I had SS, he asked if he could get to know her. Fatherhood must have made me lighten up, because I agreed. Since then, we've kept in regular contact, even though I can't stand the bloke.
So, anyways, tonight he calls asking me to give him a note of the family birthdays, as he lost them all in a fire recently (besides which, he's not the sharpest tool in the box). So we starts off with the LL, then BB, and SS. He even asked for the wife's. Then to top it all off, he asked for mine. I'm thirty four for crying out loud, and my own dad is asking when my birthday is!!
I'm tempted to cut him some slack, especially as I couldn't recall the wee man's DOB. He's only 6 months old though, and it's not something I've celebrated every year for a number of years as yet. It took a while for BB's to sink in, and his is really easy to remember! Perhaps I am a chip of the old block?
Let's hope not.
Baw heid indeed.
1 comment:
You have to make allowances. I can't even remember my own birthday half the time these days.
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