Last night we sat down for our usual family dinner and we revisited some old Table Talk questions. We started with an oldie but goodie.
“What is one thing your parents do that embarrasses you?”
Colt was quick to respond, “You say hello to my friends.”
Keenan was next, “You call my friends parents to check in on me.”
Noah, “Yeah. That.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” I asked. “That’s nothing. Want to hear one of the most embarrassing things Papaw did?”
*eager head shakes*
“When I was in high school…”
I had my first real date scheduled as a sophomore in high school. My dad had finally given me permission to ride in a boy’s car with him and I was so excited I hadn’t stopped talking and head bobbing for days. Like, totally. For sure.
Shortly before my date arrived to pick me up, my dad I got into a fight about something I had done which resulted in a screaming match between him and I. In the midst of the screaming and chaos there was a knock, knock, knock on the door. Our argument came to an abrupt halt. My dad smiled and a little sparkle appeared in his eyes. I assumed this meant he was excited for his little girl and was going to let it go for now. We would just come back to our argument upon my return. How wrong I was. I smiled back and floated towards the door in a haze of joyous excitement while trying not to puke.
“Hi,” I said opening the door as my head drifted up to the clouds and my stomach lurched into my throat. I had visions of prom and homecoming and wearing his class ring…
“Hi,” he said shifting from one foot to the other. He had visions of getting his hands up my shirt.
“Son,” I heard my father say from behind me. I turned to my dad all innocent and dreamy faced expecting that he would be extending his hand in greeting. As I turned, I saw something in his face that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
He continued, “You see that door you just came in?”
It’s a trick. DON’T ANSWER IT.
“Yes sir,” said my eager date.
My dad paused, a long breath holding pause, which I know for sure was so that he could prolong the pleasure of what he was about to say next. I stood wide-eyed, holding my breathe, silently pleading, begging, praying, please, please, please…
“Good, get back out it,” my dad said.
OH. DEAR. GOD. NO.
I died. A slow, high school, embarrassing death as my now not-date stared at my dad trying to figure out if he was serious. After a moment of studying the look on my father’s face, he decided he wasn’t going to chance it.
“Yes, sir,” he said and walked back out the door he had come in.
“Now that is embarrassing,” I said. “So, if I say hi to your friends or call your friends parents, perhaps? You should just thank me.”