Irish Mannerisms: Daddy Day Care

My father is forty-nine years old. He has a trustworthy wife, four healthy children, a nice house and a job he seemingly enjoys. Yet he doesn't own one shred of cop on. I say this not with shame, but with triumph. The man has achieved a lot for someone beholding so little common sense and frankly it is one of the many traits we love about him. The other day he managed to reinforce this theory I have on him. 

My younger sister has an addiction to fizzy drinks, in particular Coca Cola. It is not really a problem but then again it is not exactly a blessing either. We don't think about it too often as realistically it isn't a worry and causes no trouble to our everyday lives. Everyone has their own individual fixations, my mother's nicotine cravings, my brother's dependence on Snapchat and in this instance my sister's sweet tooth are all minor components that shape our family.

I am more of a 7 Up enthusiast. 

On Friday Dad collected me from the train station in his work van, he is employed in the construction industry. It's a three seater but typically it's just the two of us, usually we chat about how we each found the passing week. But in this instance we didn't as he had a passenger car pooling with him, a colleague from work. Martin is practically identical to my father in many ways, they are the same age, build and occupation. Midway through the journey a discussion unfolded along the lines of this.

Martin: "Is it two sons and two daughters you have Padraic?" Conversation had kind of quietened down, perchance he was attempting to avoid a silence.
Father: "That's it, four teenage brats". He fails at humour almost as tragically as I do.
Martin: "What age are the daughters?" I was hoping this would be a pretty innocent determined question and that my father wouldn't be fooled into fuelling the fantasies of a pervert for the rest of the journey.
Father: " just turned eighteen and the other one is twenty-one." He took a bit too long thinking about it for my likening. 
Martin: "Difficult years, my own daughter is seventeen. Boy she's trouble." I was just relieved no potential Larry Murphy was cruising with us.
Father: "Yeah I suppose they're trouble from time to time, but sure that's life." His rare few words of wisdom.
Martin: "Well my one now is really making life hard for us at home, she's started smoking and my wife and I really don't know what to do. We think she's addicted now. Awful work, I'm telling ya." I felt slightly sorry for him, to be honest.
Father: "Well the younger girl in our house is no princess either." My father is dangerously competitive and instead of confiding unfortunate Martin he decided to challenge his colleague's cry for help.
Martin: "She can't be as bad as my lady." I believed him, his daughter sounded like a top class bitch.
Father: "Well our Katie is addicted to coke, it is an awful way to be." Where did this come from? Was he craving sympathy?
Martin: "Oh Christ Padraic I never imagined you could be dealing with something that serious." He had added two and two together and equalled nine. He assumed my father had abbreviated cocaine to coke.
Father: "Yeah, yeah, yeah. It is poor form, filthy habit." Says the man who consumes apple tarts in multiples of three.
Martin: "How did she get into that, didn't think that happened around here." MY SISTER DOES NOT TAKE CRACK COCAINE.
Father: "Sure my wife gave it to her a few years ago at a party, she's the only one out of our kids that got hooked to it." I'd say social services received a concerned phone call that evening.
Martin: "Padraic I don't know what exactly to say." Either did I.
Father: "Here's your house, enjoy the weekend Martineen."
Martin: "Thanks, don't worry anything we spoke about today is said in confidence. I'll keep it all to myself." 

Once he had exited the vehicle I gazed over at my father and his goofy smirk, he hadn't a fuckin' clue. This really was a testament to how stupid he can be at the best of times.  

If my Dad could be a cartoon...


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