when parents go clubbing

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Time: One random church day some weeks ago.

It was after service and my mind was already at home,dipping the fresh, still-warm white big treat bread in a warm chocolate mug (don’t judge me).

 

When this happens:

 

Father: go home with Diji after service.

Me: Diji isn’t going home; you can give me some money, i’ll find my way home.

Father: going home yourself is basically the same thing as coming with us, same amount of time… we’ll go together.

(An hour’s drive later that i didn’t rub it in their face that i’d have been home by now, outside another church)

Me: I’llΒ stay in the car.

Father: you can’t stay in the car, this area isn’t safe.

Mother pips in: it’s a concert, you’ll enjoy it.

Me: no, i won’t. (Thinks: i am not an old person).

I can’t wait till I get older and force (guilt trip) them to places.

Me: oh! Daddy, you don’t like those females gyrating on you with mum glaring at you? Sorry…. you can’t stay in the car tho…it’s not safe, the car might be a Decepticon.

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2 thoughts on “when parents go clubbing

type now or forever hold your fingers :)

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