Nov 23 2007
Dear Daddy
Dear Daddy,
Thank you so much for letting us live in your house while you and Mom are in Spain. It means the world to us.
So far, we have had a wonderful experience. The neighbors are, in general, kind to us. Though I think that they might possibly be suspicious of me, ever since Bubba peed on the neighbor’s front porch. Or after Scooby was found standing in the middle of a very busy nearby street screaming, “MOMMY!” (I thought he was downstairs playing with his trains) and was escorted home by a complete stranger. And that then there was that time that I dropped Fuzzles in front of the whole congregation at church. I hope none of this has tarnished your perfect name.
Your house has suited us well. Fluffy and Fuzzles are sharing my old bedroom. It has never been anything but an atrocious mess since the day we moved in. Like mother, like daughter, huh? And Scooby and Bubba share J’s old bedroom. While it looks spotless compared to Fluffy’s room, it smells… well… like a boy’s room. I don’t know why that is. It looks clean, but it stinks like boy. So, pretty much just how it was when J lived there, I guess.
I confess that there have been one or two casualties. While we have tried very hard to limit food-consumption to the kitchen area, as per your request, there have been one or two occasions where someone managed to slip out of my site. Let’s just say that it’s a good thing that the futon in the family room was already approximately the color of grape juice… Also, just today I discovered a caramel-filled Hershey’s Kiss was smashed and stepped on repeatedly, and ground into your insanely expensive Persian rug in Mom’s study. Needless to say, I have no idea how to remove it. However, in true Scarlet O’Hara fashion, I choose to worry about it tomorrow. I can’t bear to think of it tonight. So, for now, I’ve covered it with a chair
Then, of course, there’s the hotwheel car wedged into your priceless baby grand piano. I haven’t yet taken the piano apart, because the thought of it kinda makes me hyperventilate.
And… um… this morning, while I was doing ten thousand loads of laundry, because that’s how much laundry my household generates every day, Hubby walked into the washroom and yelled, “SWEETY!!! I THINK THERE’S A FIRE IN HERE!”
The good news is, there was no fire. The bad news is, we burned out a motor in your washing machine.
So, I figure we now owe you approximately four million dollars. Good thing I’m making millions of dollars off of this blog every week… Oh, wait…
I guess it’s a good thing that I was such a rotten teenager, and that you learned immense amounts of patience and forgiveness during those years…
Don’t worry. It’s just for one more year. Daddy? Daddy? Are you all right?
Love,
Brill-Brill
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Hahahahahahahahaha!
Ohmygoodness Brill-Brill, this post totally rocks. What a hysterical, hilarious piece.
Favorite bit, hands down: **Needless to say, I have no idea how to remove it. However, in true Scarlet O’Hara fashion, I choose to worry about it tomorrow. I can’t bear to think of it tonight. So, for now, I’ve covered it with a chair**
Oh, my, I can’t even copy and paste it without snorting all over again!
Too too much, baby. Too too much!
Oh Brill, the piano. I am hyper-ventilating too. Can you get someone in to do that??
Hee hee. Fantastic post.
Oh, no. You’re such a brave woman.
Have I ever told you about a certain borrowed cream silk upholstered antique couch, a black Dri-Erase marker, and Tess?
Needless to say, I can identify.
Oh wow - that was funny. The caramel on the Persian rug . . . huh, I have a friend whose good at that kind of thing. When it’s a more reasonable hour of the morning I’ll call her and see if she has any idea how to remove it.
How can they be mad at you when you are so funny?
I mean really - you are the perfect daughter!
LOL! Glad you’re not my daughter! Just kidding
I have all the family coming for Christmas, so I’ll be thinking of you as keep smiling.
I jut blogged about a GREAT stress reliever–and healing technique for a ton of things. All free, simple, and safe. Plus a must-view video. Take a break and enjoy!
They don’t read this, do they? I’m sure they remember having kids, unless you were so horrid they put it out of their memory banks.
Oh man, the baby grand. My heart aches to own a baby grand but the thought of getting one with little kids around the house…shudder. I guess it’s good we don’t have the money for it.
Oh man, you are a riot. There is no way he could be mad after reading that. I love to quote Scarlett when I just don’t want to deal with it.
Still laughing…hehehe
Oh hun, that came out funny but…ouch!
Sounds a lot like my family!!!
Ha ha ha ha ha ha–I hope we get to hear his response
Too funny.
I know I haven’t lived these stories and yet they feel so familiar, perhaps foreshadowing, because as surely as I type this comment, a cloud of improbable disaster follows us in others’ homes.
Way too funny… but where are your folks? Did you guys run them out of town?
It sort of sounds like things haven’t changed in that house so much since when you and J were children…
Great post!
omg wayyyyyy too funny…thanks for the funnies….needed that giggle.
Things can really get dicey when you’re using someone’s else’s stuff. Especially a house.
Hope you find easy solutions to your problems.
Ha ha haha ha! This is hilarious!
But seriously. That’s the thing about parenting: you want to be used. Your parents are going to be thrilled.
This makes me realize what an awesome deal I have going on right now–I’m not babysitting the parents’ house, but I AM babysitting a good chunk of Mom’s wardrobe while they’re gone. Can you say cashmere?
HAHAHHAHHAHA! HAHAHAHH! It’s mostly the persian rug thing and the priceless baby grand thing that, um, really gets me hyperventilating.
4 Mill? Wow! I am so glad that this blog generates more than enough bling to cover all the mishaps.
You are hilarious. Also, I’m remembering a similar never sent letter of long ago to dearest Daddy.
Ah how I love my Brill.
Just awesome…
Very funny…. my boys got carmel in my carpet… get a brown paper bag and a semi hot iron, put the bag on the sticky mess and iron it, move the bag around so you do re-sticky the rug, and after an hour or so you should be good!
[…] Dear Daddy […]
I can’t believe one of your children repeatedly stepped on that caramel kiss. In my house, it would have been eaten and every bit savored. Heresy I tell ya.