A few weeks back my family and I went out to dinner together. First things first. We live in an area with a lot of restaurants – but we only go to a few ones that my sister and I like. Most of them are restaurants that we’ve never stepped foot into, mainly because they’re “in our own backyard.” So we were kind of feeling adventurous and we plunged into the depths of a cool Mexican Restaurant around the corner from our house. It was actually really good – and my parents promised we would go there again. (Which pretty much means they’ll forget about it in about a week.)
Anyway, we were having a great dinner, when a certain subject came up. Now, you should know that my grandfather had his 80th birthday party this summer. The birthday party was very long and had not-very-appetizing menu selections. It was kind of a flop in my opinion. What made it even more hilarious was the song at the end. One of my grandfather’s good friends had created a parody of a song for him. It was a personalized version of “You Gotta Have Heart.” Instead of “Heart” the song was now “Norm” – my grandfather’s name. (You Gotta Have NORM, NORM, NORM)
The music sheet had many flaws – one of them being the humorous misspelling of my sister’s name. Nevertheless, the thing that set the whole ordeal over the edge was the fact that the person leading the song was going insanely slow. Anyway, my mom began to create her own lyrics to the song – something she does often either out of fun or forgetfulness. It started off with little ones like “I really love to eat HAM, HAM, HAM,” or “Put some gravy on the YAM, YAM, YAM.” I started coming up with my own. They were just appearing out of the blue. “Just got back from VietNAM, NAM, NAM.”
At this point my dad was getting fed up with our silliness – and I was wondering what had been in my mom’s Margarita. We finished up dinner and started towards the parking lot. The rhymes were just coming to me. At last my dad just flat out told us to stop. Hardly hearing him, another ingenious rhyme came into my head, “Oh look, a beer CAN, CAN, CAN.” This set my dad over the edge. He said that if I kept it up, I could just walk home. That sounded awesome, especially because our house was so close. Mom wasn’t really into that idea though. As we approached the car, I asked my mom in her ear, “Do we have to take the VAN, VAN, VAN.” Our car is a minivan – called the “Van” for short. She cracked up, but stopped and gave me a “disapproving” stare matching the one dad was giving her. When we got home, my dad saw a strange man sitting on our curb. I whispered to my mom, “Who’s that strange MAN, MAN, MAN.” She gave me the “Your dad’s really pissed off” look, but then burst into laughter. I then mouthed “Now you’re thinkin’ like I AM, AM, AM.” My dad saw and sent me to my room. I walked to the hall backwards, mouthing my last rhyme to my mom. “Aw, DAMN, DAMN, DAMN.” Apparently mom told my dad everything later, and he was cracking up too. These moments where I piss off dad and get away with it are – oh wait, I mean, it’s great when I can relate to my mom – even if it’s dangerous to.