Perhaps my father has forgotten this. Or just doesn't want to admit it. But we've had Dad-don't-ask-questions-you-don't-want-to-know-the-answer-to moments about my supersexy Halloween costume and my alcohol habits, and Dad-don't-you-even-go-there moments about boys and things from my childhood I don't want to talk about and other touchy subjects, so I think it's safe to say I've been trying to remind him that I am not a child.
So why, WHY does he insist on doing things we did when I was little? Watching movies I hated the first time around to see if I still hate them (I do). Renting bikes and biking along the boardwalk next to the ocean (which was fun, I must admit). Cleaning, Neosporin-ing, and Band-Aid-ing my wound when I hurt my shin. (Seriously? Neosporin? I haven't put Neosporin on a wound since people actually still put my bandaids on for me.) Giving me old t-shirts of his to sleep in (Uhm I actually have supersexy nighties, kthnx).
Dad, this is cute, but I AM NOT A CHILD. What happened to last time I visited, when we went on a short cruise and danced at dinner at a nice Italian restaurant? That felt like we were two adults. This doesn't, and I'm sorry but that's not okay.
LOL maya! so funny. At least let him have his fun though
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