Friday, January 9, 2009

I used to be able to hold the world in my little hands.

It might be a little sad that I'm making two posts in such a short time, but this is pretty relieving... talking to myself and what not.

I was resizing pictures from my mom's birthday dinner, which was actually a lot of fun. Good Argentinian food, a lot of Sangria, my mom looked very pretty.

BUT, my dad brought up something very interesting to me (after a long day of drinking -_-). He opened up to me about his "worst memory ever." A memory that still gives him nightmares sometimes, needless to say I was interested.

I had the most amazing kindergarten teacher ever (I love you Mrs. Archer). We celebrated Cinco De Mayo for the god's sakes, she brought in tacos, a pinata, sombreros, the whole nine yards. Did your kindergarten teacher do that?! I didn't think so punk! Anyway, I managed to make it through kingerdarden *phew* and come graduation Mrs. Archer presented all of us with a blow up globe, our last little step in our little journey to discover the world. We were equipped with the A,B,C's, some simple mathematics, and the ability to finger paint, it was time for us to learn some geography. I actually liked this beach ball of a globe that I had, for some strange reason I used to stand in front of this giant mirror that my mom had on her armour and try to keep it from hitting the floor.

How does this relate to my dad's worst memory ever you ask? Why I'll tell you!

One morning my dad was sleeping on the couch and I was playing with that ball, most likely making a lot of noise, and he came into my mom's room grabbed that globe and popped it with his massive hands. He took the world in his hands and crushed it right before me. I'm sure I was crying or what not, I was five years old. I honestly don't remember though, I don't even remember what I was doing with the ball, my mom and dad described it to me at dinner. Now I know that it was a hangover morning, and he couldn't take the noise from me playing with that ball anymore. Now that I think about, I hope he yelled at me a few times to give me fair warning that he was going to pop that ball, and although I'm going to assume that is the case, I can't verify that.

NOW, I vaguely remembered this before he brought it up. I remember a lot of random things, but I definitely would not call it my worst memory involving my father, but apparently it touched a chord in his heart. He apologized to me about a trillion times and asked for my forgiveness, which I gave him. Afterall, compared to the things I've witnessed in my life, him popping my blow up globe is nowhere near my list of fatherly dissapointments.

Not that anyone cares (with the exception of maybe my mother), but me and my father have a very complicated relationship.

Pictures much more easily entertain people than words, so without further adieu, my dad's creative interpretation of him popping my ball:

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I also mentioned that my mom looked very pretty:

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I would never lie about such a thing!

1 comment:

  1. I love that last picture of your mom.

    Also, my kindergarten teacher gave us Barney stickers. How rad is that? Almost as cool as your festivities-enthused teacher.

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