Sunday, July 20, 2008

Cape Fear

So I have been on vacation with my family on the beach in North Carolina this past week. It was heavenly. This was the view outside my massive master suite window everyday.

We spent a lot of time in the sun and the surf, and Belsum's Scandinavian family got super pink and burned. Good times. Thank god my mom's great grandma banged a native, because I gots me melanin. Yes dear readers, I tan to a golden delicious semi-brown.

We had internet at our swanky beachfront environs, but every time I tried to get on the computer I got hassled by the wife's family to stop nerding out and to join in the activities. But I'm back now. There are lots of stories to tell, but I will limit myself to one.

One sunset we were sitting in the hot tub listening to the crashing ocean waves when I decided that me and my fellow tubbers needed beers. So I sent my niece Abbe on a beer run to the cooler in the kitchen. She came back empty handed. She said her mom wouldn't let her bring us beers. I looked inside and I saw her mother shaking her fist at me. Later Abbe's mom brought us our beers, (so I still win) but bitched me out for asking a 6 year old to fetch them. Now people. I am from the 70's, and I am from South Dakota in the 70's, so I just didn't understand the problem at all. I can't remember a time when I wasn't fetching beers. I mean the beers are there. The adults are drinking them. What's the problem? Later I pulled Abbe aside and instructed her to "go under the radar" the next time I send her on a mission.

The next day we are eating at the kitchen table and I needed a fresh beer, so I tell Kirk, who is only 3 and busy not eating as usual, to go to the cooler and bring me one. The boy walked across the busy room. I saw a bunch of activity in the area around the cooler, several minutes passed, but eventually Kirk rounded the corner in triumph holding the beer over his head and smiling, shouting, "Daddy, I did it." What a good boy. I hugged him and opened my beer. Then I looked across the table at Abbe and said, "Kirk is practically a baby, and he successfully completed HIS mission." She protested, "But my mom wouldn't let me!" I looked at her as soberly as I could and said, "I'm not interested in your excuses, I'm only interested in your results. Let this be a life lesson for you." And then she stuck her tongue out at me. Ha!

All I have to say is, I know I'm a good father, but I'm also one hell of an uncle.

6 comments:

belsum said...

Heh. I was wondering which one story you were going to go with.

Superbadfriend said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

Nicely done. However, I must insist that you go all the way and teach Kirk to respond to the command, "Beer Me!"

Anne C. said...

Dear little Captain Kirk doesn't go on an away mission without succeeding!
A friend of mine who grew up in the 70s in North Dakota would try and one up you by saying he was already drinking at that age. ;)

Chris Hill said...

North Dakota? Ugghh! More like "Wrong" Dakota. Anyway I could write a whole chapter on "poison testing", which is where you have a sip out of every beer you bring your dad, because you love him and want to keep him safe. By the time I was 13 I could drink an entire beer in one really large sip. I wasn't asked to fetch beers much after that. Ah, coming of age.

Anonymous said...

Well done Kirk!

There's photos of my grandad sending me (aged 3-4) to a vending machine to get him cigarettes in 80s Scotland. And G's step-brother is forever sending his 4 year old to "get Daddy and Grandad a tin".