Parents

Everyone has parents. Maybe you’ve never seen them, or met them, but somewhere along the line everybody had parents. Even dolly the sheep.

My parents are in their 50’s and I have met both of them. I still live with them and I communicate with them daily. If I didn’t it would be weird, considering we all live together.

Both of my parents are Portuguese. My dad is the one with the heavy accent.
My parents are not extremely short like other Portuguese people. They have a bit of height on them.

My folks are very typical. If you visit, my mom will try feed you and my dad will try quench your thirst with any form of alcohol he can find in the house.

My dad will tell you about his days back when, and my mom well, she’ll tell you about her day and offer you a shot of something. With a side plate of chicken and vegetables.

My mom will probably play some Portuguese, Mexican or Spanish music and tell you all about the band.
My dad will talk much louder than the music and you are expected to understand everything he says.

If you really can’t understand them, I just suggest you understand the question, “would you like some more?” If you just smile and say yes, you will have a bottomless plate and cup. So I suggest you listen closely.

On an average day, I am summoned to the lounge at least twice because “Dis Teevee doesn’t want work!” Then I have to go inside and turn the volume off mute, or change the channel or something basic and not too technologically advanced.
My mom just calls me to switch it on. No too difficult. For me that is.

Its so strange how my mom cannot operate the TV, DVD and DSTV but she can copy CD’s, shrink DVD’s, sync her ipod, download music, do online banking and operate a washing machine.

I noticed one day that a friend of mine, whose dad is also of European decent, also has an accent and strangely also wears denim shorts, sandals and socks. Just like my dad. I wonder if it’s a foreign thing.

My dad wears clogs too. We are not Dutch; he just wears white ones which sound like high heels when he walks on tiles.
He also like to make things. And blow up things.

One day I came home from the shopping mall. And the house smelt of chemicals. I went to the bathroom and all over the floor were bits of cardboard.
When my dad returned home, he was speaking rather loud and whenever I asked him something, his answer was a loud “huh?!, Què?!”

Turns out my dad decided to blow up the empty Pringles Chips container using fire crackers. But he did it in the bathroom as not to scare the dogs. But the loud blast from the crackers echoed louder than what he expected. For about an hour or so after that, he was partially deaf in his left ear.

Talk about idle hands!