When Grandpa was a little girl...
I have good growing up memories of my dad. Like all Larsen men, he is quite a character. He's wildly creative and a great story teller. Most of all he's wickedly and unexpectedly hilarious. Dad seems so serious and imposing, but once you get past the formal exterior, he's a riot. I hope I have inherited the best, most admirable qualities of each of my parents and if I have even an ounce of funny in me then I give full credit to my Larsen genes.
Growing up my dad used to tell the boys and I stories about when he was a little girl. No, no I typed that right -- a little girl. He would spin fanciful yarns about wishing to go the Marine Corps ball and being foiled at every turn by his ugly step sisters. He told us about his beautiful ball gown and the wonderful night he had when he finally did get to go. I remember how much we loved hearing these stories.
As I got a little older, his memory seemed to get a bit selective. We'd ask him to tell us a story about when he was a little girl and he'd claim he had no idea what on Earth we were talking about. "Why would you say such weird things?" he'd ask. " I would never tell you stories like that."
Tonight was one of those moments where your life comes full circle. Grandma Sharon, Grandpa Tim, Chad, the girls and I went out to dinner. As we sat waiting for our food with two tired, restless, squirmy kids Grandpa started to tell stories about when he was a little girl. At first he got the reaction you would expect. "Oh grandpa, you're not a girl!" "You don't wear dresses, Grandpa." But after a few minutes they were listening with wide-eyed, rapt attention. He told a couple of doozies. One about being chased by a wolf of his way to the Marine Corps ball and one about asking Santa Claus for a beautiful dress to wear to church. In response to the request of such a sweet little girl, Santa brought little-girl Grandpa a beautiful blue and pink silk dress. He was so happy and he looked so beautiful when he went to church in his special dress.
The girls ate it up! I decided I better blog this, so there would be documented proof that Dad did tell stories about when he was a little girl. No more selective memory - it's now been official entered into the family history. ;)
Growing up my dad used to tell the boys and I stories about when he was a little girl. No, no I typed that right -- a little girl. He would spin fanciful yarns about wishing to go the Marine Corps ball and being foiled at every turn by his ugly step sisters. He told us about his beautiful ball gown and the wonderful night he had when he finally did get to go. I remember how much we loved hearing these stories.
As I got a little older, his memory seemed to get a bit selective. We'd ask him to tell us a story about when he was a little girl and he'd claim he had no idea what on Earth we were talking about. "Why would you say such weird things?" he'd ask. " I would never tell you stories like that."
Tonight was one of those moments where your life comes full circle. Grandma Sharon, Grandpa Tim, Chad, the girls and I went out to dinner. As we sat waiting for our food with two tired, restless, squirmy kids Grandpa started to tell stories about when he was a little girl. At first he got the reaction you would expect. "Oh grandpa, you're not a girl!" "You don't wear dresses, Grandpa." But after a few minutes they were listening with wide-eyed, rapt attention. He told a couple of doozies. One about being chased by a wolf of his way to the Marine Corps ball and one about asking Santa Claus for a beautiful dress to wear to church. In response to the request of such a sweet little girl, Santa brought little-girl Grandpa a beautiful blue and pink silk dress. He was so happy and he looked so beautiful when he went to church in his special dress.
The girls ate it up! I decided I better blog this, so there would be documented proof that Dad did tell stories about when he was a little girl. No more selective memory - it's now been official entered into the family history. ;)
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