The little things
A lot of words describe my dad, but ‘domestic’ is not one of them. My mother, the saint that she is, takes on all the household work, save barbecuing (not because she can’t, but to appease my dad’s ego). I was reminded of this charming quality of my father’s during a trip to the grocery store.
Shortly before Christmas, Eric and I were desperate for groceries. Eric was busy with band practices, and I can’t drive, so I convinced my dad to take me. I caught him right when he got home from work so he was a bit begrudging when he agreed.
During the drive, he casually mentioned he had never been to the Loblaws we were headed to. The ‘new Loblaws’ he called it.
The Loblaws has been in that location for about 10 years. Could it be my domestically-impaired father hadn’t stepped foot in a grocery store in a decade?
It was as if he didn’t understand the concept of a ‘grocery store’ before that visit and was like, “DEAR LORD, THERE’S FOOD HERE?!”
I felt like I was shopping with a 3-year-old, or someone who just took a bong hit. I spent about 50% more time in the store that trip than usual, simply because my dad stopped to point out any item that caught his fancy.
If you’re curious, here are my dad’s top Loblaws picks:
- Bacon and potato perogies (which I know my parents have at home, so the novelty is lost on me)
- Chocolate chip pancake mix
- Captain Crunch
- Garlic and herb mussels
My dad and I don’t really have a ‘thing’ we do together, like a sport, or a hobby. We do both have an insatiable love of food, particularly those that are deep-fried and so salty you get chest pains. So, our metaphorical frolic through the aisles of Loblaws could actually be considered a bonding experience.
Moments like these seem small, insignificant; they’re the little things. One of my resolutions for 2014 is to cherish the little things, and feel grateful every day.
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