|I imagine this is the reaction I will get when he reads this blog. If he ever does. However, this is actually him trying to listen to his music on his laptop... I guess he hasnt heard of headphones.|
My parents have spent the past two weeks decorating my brother’s bedrooms, and decorating always tests a marriage. Dave switches from the ‘Light hearted Dave’ who spends ten minutes standing on a swivel chair to attach a light onto the ceiling, waiting for himself to spin back round to make adjustments, and for some reason, impersonating Pikachu… to ‘Ridiculous Dave’. Ridiculous Dave is repetitive, gets annoyed that everything isn’t tidy, and says everything is ‘ridiculous’. He forgets where he puts things and then blames me. Just me, exclusively, as though he thinks I am a secret hoarder with a collection of screws, drills and his keys. Basically he seems under the impression that, much like a magpie, I am drawn in by shiny objects and must have them. Mum can always tell Dave where he has left absolutely anything, even the most obscure places, and a skill that must have been acquired over the course of their marriage.
My parents don’t seem to argue, usually what happens is that Dave has a bit of a breakdown and instead of even attempting to keep the peace my Mum becomes extremely sarcastic to further aggravate him and then swans out the house leaving her poor children to babysit him. What makes it even more awkward is that the majority of the time Dave doesn’t get the sarcasm…
I imagine in many marriages you gain pet names for each other, my Mum was discussing this topic with her friends and hearing the usual ‘Darling’, ‘Love’ and ‘Sweetheart’, when there was a silence, and several pairs of eyes looked expectantly at her. My poor Mum had to admit that her pet name was…Horse. I should firstly say that I imagine many of you are now expecting my Mum to have the horse-like features that some unfortunate humans do have. She doesn’t. There is no real reason for her to be compared to a horse.
The following conversation just occurred between me and Dave;
“Dad? Why DO you call Mum horse?”
“It’s a term of endearment.”
“But what is endearing about being called a horse?”
“Well. It’s better than being called a pig.”