My Dad makes me laugh more than anyone in this world.
When I think of my Dad the following comes to mind:
Bowling with my Dad is a trip that will never be forgotten.
I am really weak. I have no upper body strength what so ever, so I have to have the
lightest children’s bowling ball. It doesn’t matter how many time my Dad tells me ‘THROW THE BALL WITH YOUR THUMB FACING FORWARD AND KEEP YOUR ARM STRAIGHT’ because it is so heavy it shoots off into, what would be the gutter but I have the barriers up, side and proceeds to ricochet down the lane. This seems like a normal Dad thing to do, tutor his child, and it is normal until he begins to tutor your accompanying friends and the people in the next lane.
My poor ex would
be forced by me volunteer to be dragged to the beach / any open space to play frisbee for hours. I cannot remember a single time that I have been on holiday or on any family outing where Dad has not taken the frisbee and Aerobie also. He believes that there is always the potential for a spare five minutes and an open space in which he can recruit people to either be taught or just to play frisbee. I think I could throw a frisbee before I could do any other ‘sport’.
Recently he has acquired a new frisbee. Being the fanatic frisbee fan that he is, he could detect just by holding them that they were infant different weights meaning their flights would be different. To confirm his suspicions he actually weighed them on the bathroom scales and was too over joyed that his theory was confirmed. He is now waiting for someone to go and test them out with him. Please don’t all rush.
#3 His domestic skills
Another trait I have inherited from my Dad, being absolutely wonderful at cooking. I’m lying. If my Mum goes away for a weekend with her friends beans on toast is what me, my sister and my Dad will survive on. The entire time. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. But don’t worry, he whacks some ham in there for protein. We might break it up with vegetable soup with french stick occasionally, but we don’t like to rock the boat too much.
#4 His nicknames for people
My poor friends have been subject to this for years and years. I don’t know where these names come from or why they stick around for so long, it just happens. For example, I am Hannah-Bells. Why? My middle name is Clare, I have never rung a bell nor do I have a particular passion for bell ringing and the worst thing is, I actually respond to just being called “Bellsy”. My best friend Chloe has been named “Chlodo” and Joely gets “Joeline, Joeline, Joelineeeeeeee” sung at her. His most recent addition is “FRANCINE” for Franks whenever I’m FaceTiming the famo and she appears.
For any other friends who haven’t been around for as long simply get “WAHEY WHO ORDERED A STRIPPER!?” if they innocently knock on the door.
#5 His musical taste…
My Dad plays the guitar. I am the most un-musical person on the planet and my brain just does not have the ability to comprehend reading music but when you enter the house, if my Dad is in, you are very likely to hear him playing one of his many guitars or singing to Guns and Roses or his latest favorite, Muse. Even when he is driving along he is doing air guitar to whatever he is listening to or using the steering wheel as a drum.
When I was really little, before I began refusing to do things, I would sing along with him like a little performing monkey.
He also loves Guitar Hero, I can’t even do that well, and I remember my friend Joely and her boyfriend babysitting my younger sister once and coming home to find that they had both been roped into playing Guitar Hero with him. I’m sure they loved it really…
#6 His ability to whack out an inappropriate comment at all times
You would think that if your parents talk about anything sexual you would die inside, but I have actually become immune to it. His various sex jokes in front of my friends now just make me laugh rather than feel embarrassed. A prime example being the weekend that has just past, Frankie and Maz from Uni came back home with me, in which he said “Sam [my Mum], I’m ready for you…” and then proceeded to lift his entire leg up.
My younger sister on the other hand is reaching [dun dun dun] 13 in August and now being a teen is embarrassed by anything that
our parents Dad says/performs in front of her friends. As I said I’m immune to it, as is my Mum, which now just makes the whole thing even funnier.
The frisbee features here. Quite heavily.
Most holiday photos of me when I am younger, apart from being horrifically dressed and always in trainers, show my knees in plasters where I have been clambering across anything that can be climbed with my Dad.
There is also numerous photos of my Dad with huge sand castles that he has constructed ‘with’ me and my little sister. I say ‘with’, we would build a couple of towers before wandering off elsewhere whilst my Dad continued to build a huge castle with a moat, stone decorations, the works.
My Dad is the best Dad in the whole wide world.