I have become my father

When I was growing up, I recall my mother's frustration every time she sent my father to the store for something. Invariably, he brought back THE WRONG THING!

I always got a kick out of this. I rarely saw Mom and Dad argue, let alone fight, so when Mom would scold Dad for picking up the wrong stuff, I'd just smirk and admire the little skirmish.

Of course, my father would respond with "Well, if you knew what you wanted, why did you send me?"

Of course, my mother responded with, "But how hard is it to get the right thing?"

And this would continue . . . all to my amusement. Until Dad finally went out to plow snow or work in the shop and Mom went back and made due with what Dad had incorrectly purchased.

I got a kick out of this until now I realize that I have become my father.

Lately, if Kristie asks for something, I get THE WRONG THING.

Yesterday, she sent me to Target to get infant diapers and wipes for Cash. I thought I got the right ones, but I got ones that say infant, but for an infant in the 8-12 pound range. Let's hope he's not an 8 pound baby! Of course, the wipes that I got were for sensitive skin, which is good, but they were individually packaged and not the kind that you can just place in the large plastic containers that we have left over from when Kenz was in diapers.

Now today, Kenz and I ran up to TRF. I stopped at Subway to get Kristie lunch (didn't screw that up), but while we were in line at Walmart, I grabbed her a Twix for dessert. Unfortunately, I didn't bother to look at what kind of Twix it was (in a sane world, there are two kinds of Twix - peanut butter and caramel. Kristie loves the caramel kind). But I guess someone thought it would be a good idea to devise a Twix caramel java candy bar . . . and put it in similar packaging to the normal Twix bar (probably the only way they'll get anyone to try the revolting candy).

So, Dad I'm sorry I ever took pleasure in your inattention to detail. It happens to the best of us!