My Dad and his wife are visiting this week. It is always great having them around. They spoil the little guys with loads of junk food. They equally ply the older kids with soda, candy, and late night games of Euchre. They all love them.
Dallas and I get a little time off. So we love them too.
It’s interesting to watch them interact with the kids. This time around my Dad has learned to text, so he is texting with the twins. Usually while sitting across from them at the table.
I’m sure they will love it when he gets back to the lower 48 and texts them at 5 AM. Even though we have been here for a year and a half he can’t remember the time difference. It’s four hours. It’s always been four hours. It will always be four hours. That means 9 AM your time is 5 AM my time. No, I don’t want to talk to you (or anyone else) at 5 AM.
I am certain my Dad will never understand this concept.
Reese asked Grandpa if he could play the games on his iPhone. Grandpa told him there were no games on his phone. Then the conversation went like this:
“Grandpa, do you have songs on your phone?”
“Just The Night Chicago Died.”
“Grandpa? Why did it die?”
This reminded me of a similar conversation when the twins were little. My Dad and I were in Florida trying to figure out how to get rid of fire ants.
Anyone who lives in the south is familiar with fire ants. They are the worst insects on the planet. If you step in a fire ant mound you will strip in public to get them off of you. You will also curse. A lot.
Then you will start to devise plans to rid your yard of fire ants.
My Dad and I had heard that the goal of any successful fire ant removal plan was to kill the queen. We talked about shoving a pole down the mound and pouring boiling hot water down it or dousing it with cancer-causing-chemicals.
We kept saying, “you have to kill the queen.”
Finally, little miss Taryn looked at us with sad, puppy dog eyes and said, “Why would you kill a Queen? Queens are pretty and nice.”
Clearly she needs to brush up on her history.