Daddy Dearest and the Quest to be Blogged

No sooner had I sat my expanding posterior in my father's La-z-boy recliner than a small styrofoam bowl was shoved under my nose. 

"Look! Here's something for your blog!  Look!" My dad was standing over me, blocking my view of ICarly (Gillian was running around - somewhere) and he was giggling.  "Look!  I asked mom where the sugar was to put on my strawberries and she said 'Over by the coffee pot' so I grabbed it up and poured it on my strawberries and LOOK!  I took a big bite." He paused for emphasis as I continued to stare at him quizzically and wonder why his sugared strawberries were "blog-worthy."

My sister could barely contain herself as dad's face reddened and he guffawed with laughter: "It was CREAMORA!" 

"Dad!" I said like I was shocked he'd do such an amazingly absurd thing but really - I wasn't.

This is the same man who once cut a hole in the ceiling four times as big as the tiny hole he was trying to fix, he once broke our washer trying to fix the dryer, fell off a ladder trying to get to the roof, cut the tip off his finger trying to retrieve a nail that was under the lawn mower -

while it was still running, and who almost blinded himself when he mistakingly used super glue instead of eye drops. 

So, really, the fact that he survived the Strawberry and Creamora incident is, I 

guess, "blogworthy" in itself!