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My Dad is a no bullshit kind of guy. When I was 8 or 9 years old, I wandered off when we were at the grocery store. He’d told me a million times not to do so. Even had me paged on the intercom once. But still, I insisted in drifting away when he wasn’t watching me closely.
So there I was, looking at all the plastic crap in the toy section, when it hit me. We had been in the store a long time. An AWFUL long time. I couldn’t remember my dad EVER shopping this long. I wondered where he was.
I searched up and down every aisle before it dawned on me. He left me.
My home was a couple of miles away. (Uphill, I might add; though there was no snow, and I was wearing shoes) So I walked home.
When I got back home, my Dad didn’t say word one about the importance of staying with him at the store. He didn’t need to. I learned my lesson.
God DAMN my dad was a cool dad.
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Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.
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