My parents came to visit a couple weekends ago. Saturday morning involved boot shopping for my dad. We checked out some Viberg’s. We didn’t find any, but I had an excellent time taking shots of their shop. And giving fashion advice to my dad. And teaming up with my mom to give more fashion advice to my dad.
My mom and dad arrived early Friday night. We went for dinner at a funky ancient pub and told stories and hummed and hahed over the menu and caught up. “Do you want to share a starter? You choose. No really, whatever you want, pick whatever you want. Are you sure? Do you want another beer?”
John says that he likes to see me with my folks because of how at ease I am. It’s true. It’s like I can put everything down when I’m around them. And sometimes you don’t even realize how much you’re carrying until you put it down.
When they first walked in the door, after the hugs and the jokes and the “how was the drive?” mom and I started to chatter and shuffle things around and get ready to head out for dinner, as we do. Dad moved into the living room and sat on the couch. Just chilled and shook the drive off. As he does.
A couple minutes later I looked in on my dad to see that Mickey had jumped onto the couch and was sitting on my dad’s lap. Mickey had just plopped himself down and was thoroughly at ease.
Mickey doesn’t do that. Well, he doesn’t do that to anybody but me. Occasionally he’ll jump onto John, but John says Mickey will only do that if I’m not around. He says he’s second string when it comes to a lap for Mickey.
“Hi, ya little hairball,” is my dad’s response.
“Do you want him off?” I’m not sure. My parents don’t have pets. They’re not used to hair all over their pants and their shirts and their socks and their even unmentionables.
For the rest of the weekend I was second string.
I love that Mickey knew my dad was a safe spot for him. I love that he knew what I know.