Dearest Father…

You don’t have to babysit me, ya know? I am 46 years old now. In my father’s eyes, I am still that shy, sensitive and timid teenager who needed help with everything decades ago.

I thought I would write a quick blog post while I wait on my chicken pot pies to cool down. They are always incredibly piping hot when they arrive. Yes, Charlie and Old Fuss and Feathers have just been by on this our KFC Sundays. Charlie had nothing to clean and actually pouted with me about it. I had cleaned the kitchen and taken out all the trash. There wasn’t a single solitary milk jug to throw away. I couldn’t do anything right tonight with either of the dynamic duo.

“I am going to run down and buy some gas when y’all leave,” I told my father as he sat on the couch with Charlie and Maggie. “I am going to put it on the debit card.”

The car was on half full when I got it and it has taken this long for me to need a fill up. I’ve put over 70 miles on that car so far. 

“We’ll follow you down there and I will put it on my credit card,” my father replied cautiously. “I am always afraid you are going to be tempted by beer when you go into the Circle K to get a drink.”

This is the same reason Old Fuss and Feathers gave me earlier today on why I can’t come to my sister’s barbecue on the 4th of July. Beer and mixed drinks will be flowing freely. I might put my hand in the proverbial cookie jar and open Pandora's box.