Yesterday at lunch with my dad, I told him that all the people at my bookstore that I initially had a problem with now get along well enough with me. I reiterated to him that I take some getting used to - but that eventually I'm found valuable.
He said the weirdest thing back to me.
"Yeah, I've always told you that," he said. "You used to come to me and say that I loved [your brother] Dan more than you, and I used to tell you that I loved you both equally. Dan was just easier to love."
"Huh?" I asked him.
"Well, you know, Dan's cool ... like my brother Dwaine was," my dad said. "He's just always so cool about everything, nothing phases him ... If he knows stress, he doesn't show it. You're more like me."
"Oh?" I asked.
"I always said Dan was born 40," my dad said. "You and I tend to maintain the same mental age of about 13."
I let him continue, and my dad said that he has only recently processed things in his head the way a regular adult would.
"You know, until I hit about 40, I didn't know how to deal with people," he said. "And people always find me difficult to deal with - and kinda an ass - in the beginning, but they like me and understand me once they get to know me."
That brought us back to the sentence that started the conversation, and we continued from there.
In front of the Costco cashier, I told Dad he always forgets my birthday.
"I do not," he said, incredulously. "It's June 20!"
"21st," I corrected him.
The cashier started to laugh.
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