"What kind of soldier ARE you?"
Daddy's retired Army.
First Master Sergeant.
He's 93 years old.
Don't let the age fool you, he's ALWAYS been stubborn, ornery, and bossy.
Whenever I cried, he'd yell, "What kind of soldier ARE you?"
Being four years old with a bloody nose at the time- I always had bloody noses for some reason. Best as I can figure, it was from my running around out in the sun or from picking my nose- I couldn't argue back.
In middle school, when he'd ask that- I'd answer, "An unpopular one, obviously!"
During high school, I'd answer, "A tired/bored/angry/bloated/crampy/highly emotional/whatever I'm feeling at the time one!"
But after high school I finally figured he really wasn't interested in me or my feelings- he just wanted me to shut up and quit bothering him.
So, now when we argue or when I whine, and he asks, "What kind of soldier ARE you?"
Instead of answering, "I'm not a soldier, dad." I tell him-
"I'm my daddy's FAVORITE soldier!"
And he laughs.
Well, his truck has been conking out on him.
He was driving to my house, and it died while he was driving it!
He pulled over into my neighborhood- luckily!
But he said it's all my fault- cuz he was coming to my house.
I had a tow truck take it to a mechanic- a cheap one just to get it off the streets.
It has issues, safety issues that need to be addressed by a proper mechanic.
I told him not to drive it until it was fixed.
Because it will die on him, again.
This morning, my dad and my son were in it when it died on the freeway.
My son called me.
I told him to ask my dad what he wants me to do.
He said my dad was getting all whiny- keep in mind he loves that truck more than all his kids (me included) together.
I asked my son to ask my dad for the next plan of action.
He said my dad was bitchin' and blaming me and my son and everyone.
I told my son to ask my dad- "What kind of soldier ARE you?"
He said my dad wouldn't stop laughing.
I went and started up his truck- on the side of the highway, followed him to his work, traded out his truck with my car, and drove his broke-ass truck to MY house so he won't drive it until proper repairs are made.
It should only take a day or so- but this always happens on a Saturday.
When every place is closed or closes early.
It'll get done correctly, soon.
Cuz I'm a good soldier. :-)