OldTroubador's blog post - See What I Have to Put Up With?

In 2007, my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. They said it was tradition to take the whole family on vacation to help celebrate. They said the choices were either a 7-day cruise or a week at Walt Disney World. With three girls under the age of 11 (my daughter and two nieces), we went to Orlando.
Now, my daughter had met my sister and her girls once – when she was six months old. She had seen pictures of them and talked to them on the phone, but she had never really met them. My nieces knew me, and they knew how my sister and I acted when together. Also present were my wife and my sister’s boyfriend, soon to be fiancé. He was fairly new to the family (I had never met him) but had a slight idea how we all got along.
The first night, we met for supper at the restaurant co-located with the block of hotel rooms we had together. Mom and Dad had not shown up yet, so at the table sat my sister, her boyfriend, and her two girls, and myself, my wife, and my daughter. My sister and I sat across from each other, with my daughter by my side. As we sat waiting for Mom and Dad, my sister and I started picking on each other. It was getting pretty rambunctious when my sister kicked me under the table and nodded her head toward my daughter. Huge tears were running down my little girl’s face and her bottom lip was quivering. I put my arm around her and asked what was wrong. The rest of the conversation went like this:
Young ‘un: “Aunt Beth, I HATE you!!!!”
Me: “How can you say that??? You just met her”
Sister: “What have I done wrong???”
YU: “You’re being mean to my daddy!!!!”
At which point, we all fell apart in laughter (except for my sister’s boyfriend who sat there with a look on his face that said ‘Do I REALLY want to spend the rest of my life with these nutjobs?’
We explained to my daughter that the way my sister and I expressed our love for each other was to pick on each other unmercifully. Her eyes dried up, then lit up. “Okay”, she said, “I understand”. And I have not known a moment’s peace since then.
Case in point, but first, I must tell this small tale to tell the most current story.
On Mother’s Day, 2007 (a month before the trip mentioned above), I was cutting the grass from a small tractor which had an annoying tendency to throw one of the belts. I had been putting the belt back on, while everything was running, for weeks (can you see where this is going?). But on this particular Sunday, I grabbed the belt wrong and, as it caught on the pulley, it pulled three fingers along with it. Half of my right index finger was amputated on the spot. I may or may not finish this story some other time, but that is the main point I need to make right now.
Fast forward to last Sunday. My wife and daughter picked me up at the truck stop and we headed to the big city. We hung out at Barnes & Noble for a few hours, then drove across the highway to get supper. I set my half full coffee mug on the floor and, to avoid kicking it over, lifted my feet up to swing them out the door. I was wearing flip-flops because my heavy work boots were not needed. The toes on my left foot hit the bottom of the dashboard. I said “Ouch” and got out of the truck. One toe had a tiny spot of blood on it; I’ve lost more blood when they pull the needle out after taking blood samples. For some reason, my daughter thought this was funny. As I stood there and jokingly admonished her that her daddy was bleeding and should not be picked on, she pointed down and informed me that another toe was also bleeding. Needless to say, she thought this was hilarious. The rest of the conversation went like this:
Me: “You should be a little nicer to your old daddy. I’m in a little bit of pain here and I am bleeding too.”
Her: “Look on the bright side Daddy. At least those toes are still attached.”

I had nothing for this - nothing but elevator music