And Then Dad Got Mad

Traci, Kevin, and I were having a meal together, when Kevin mentioned how, when he was younger, he wanted to be all tough. He continued to explain that this was why he carved his name in his new bed when he was ten years old. He ended his story with, "and then Dad got mad."

Traci picked up on this last line as a cue for a story of her own. When we were married without kids, she was driving in the parking lot of our apartment complex when she hit a pole. She ended her story by telling Kevin, "and then Dad got mad."

After the third or fourth story that ended with the same phrase, I asked them if I get mad a lot - cuz, honestly, I don't think that I do. I was wondering if my level of self-awareness was as low as someone who (just thinking of a completely fictional example here) wears costume-like glow-in-the-dark boots and makes inappropriately sexual comments about desserts. But, they reassured me that these times stand out, because they are so infrequent. Phew.

I can rest easy. Time for leftovers now...maybe I'll go eat some pie.