My Pop came over for a visit today. He packed up his shit into his little Holden Rodeo that he has owned since forever and embarked on the 300km journey to my love shack. Huge points to him at his 66 years of age for even thinking about it, let alone making it.
My pop is a champ. Seriously. I love him to bits.
And I gotta say, he kinda loves me a little too.
Actually, I used to always be his favourite. Terrible I know, considering I have sisters and cousins, but it didn't worry me in the slightest.
This pedestal I was placed on meant I never had to catch the bus to school. EVER. He picked me up each and every morning of my schooling life.
It meant that I always got shit hot Xmas presents, including, but not limited to, Stereo's, jewellery, and later in life washing machines and dining tables.
There is just one really shitty thing about being the favourite.
The day you have kids.
All of a sudden your sharing the pedestal with these chocolate stained, sticky fingered creatures. NOT COOL.
Before you know it, the visits are not to catch up with you, but to pick one of the said sticky fingered creatures up and take them somewhere cool.
Sharing the pedestal can be hard going, but watching the relationship between my chocolate stained sticky fingered creatures and my favourite man in the world warms my heart and brings tears to my eyes.
I am watching love grow. Life long memories be made. Just like they were with me.
However, at times, I still just really want to push them off.