Dad Stories

Every once in awhile, a funny story that happened to my father, father-in-law or hubs pops into my head and makes me smile. Some of these stories could hold their own in separate posts. But, most of these stories are short & sweet… with a punchline to boot. Grab a beer & enjoy!

The Hubs is Christened into Fatherhood.
The first 10 days after we brought our first-born home from the hospital, the hubs had sole diaper-duty, while I focused on nursing & recovering from my emergency c-section. One of those early-hazy afternoons, the hubs went to Natalie’s room to change her. As he was putting a fresh diaper on, Natalie started projectiling poop directly at his face. If you’ve had a baby, especially a nursing baby, you know how messy those early poops are. All I heard from the other room was “SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!! SHIT! FLYING SHIT! HELP!!!” Even though I had never dealt with something like this, I was not looking forward to running in there to help. Instead, I laughed my ass off, while I grabbed a couple towels and a box of wipes. So disgusting, yet… a memory neither of us will ever forget. 

The Whistle.
My dad is a very laid-back and quiet dude. When we were young, we had a motor-home, and my dad was always the pilot. One random afternoon, we had my 7-ish year old cousin on board with us as we travelled to visit my Granni. For some reason, she had obtained a very annoying whistle and was just walking around the motorhome blowing it over and over and over… driving everyone crazy. The more we bitched about it, the harder she whistled. My dad just sat there, taking it. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Then, all of a sudden, in the middle of driving down the highway, my dad turns to my cousin and casually says “Melissa, could I see your whistle for a second, please?” she hands it over to him. We all sat in silence as he rolled down the window, and threw the whistle out the window, without saying a word!! We all snickered under our breath as my cousin sat there with her jaw on the floor. Dad was officially our hero.

Duke the Pony.
My father-in-law was pretty much the opposite of my dad. Outspoken and bold, usually seen with a drink and Newport cigarette in his hand before diabetes & emphysema took their toll. Many years ago, he was sent out for milk and bread and decided to pick up a friend and stop by a small-hole-in-the-wall-bar while he was, ya know, out. At the bar, Jimbo heard about an aging Shetland Pony from another bar patron and decided to buy it. Like, on the spot. They brought the pony home in a horse-trailer, named him Duke, and invited some friends to bring their kids over for pony rides in the front yard (keep in mind, this was in the middle of the city, not in a country-sized yard!) After that, Jimbo decided he should take his new pony out for a beer. They managed to get Duke into a convertible. YUP. The version of the story I had always heard was that Duke rode down Center Ave in the convertible to the bar, but my MIL tells me that they didn’t make it very far because Duke began to buck and came out of the car. They had a party with Duke at home instead… as in — inside the house. Duke spent the night in the garage before the “brilliant” idea wore off, and they took the pony to a horse barn the next day. 

The Snowboarding Jump.
When Natalie was 2, the hubs & I went on a skiing weekend, alone… we had to fight the urge to sleep the weekend away. Or rather, I did. Since the hubs is a little more advanced on the slopes, he left me to our jacuzzi suite while he hit up a few more advanced slopes on his own. I’m a sucker for a hotel room. I love LOVE going out, but if I have the opportunity to just soak in a jacuzzi, naked in my room… ALONE?! Ahhh. The thought relaxes me. But after a soak and a nap, I started wondering when the hubs would be coming back… and then I got The Call. From the ER tent. Turns out, the hubs thought his mad-skiing skillz could tackle a snow-boarding jump. His nose broke his fall. We had to spend a few hours in Traverse City’s ER, and his nose was indeed broken, but otherwise, he wasn’t in too shabby of shape. Bright side: our 2 year old was safe & sound with Nana, and we ended up at Pearl’s for dinner. Win! 

The Hanging of The Greens. 
The Sunday before Christmas, my Granni & Grandpa took their three [teen-aged] children to church. At the end of the service, their Pastor announced that they would need volunteers to help with the “Hanging of the Greens” later that afternoon. Without speaking a word, my dad, uncle & aunt immediately thought the same.exact.thing: their neighbors, The Greens. And the pew started shaking furiously. You know how hard it is to to keep yourself from laughing in church? It gets better. They ran into the Greens on the way out of church, and all three had to run out of the church because they were about to wet themselves they were laughing so hard. 

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