Grandma went shopping to her favourite little grocer yesterday, perhaps for the last time.
“I’ve never been so embarrassed,” she told me, “and it’s all your father’s fault.”
That bit didn’t surprise me.
The reason she can never set foot in the shop again is that after making some purchases she arrived back at the car where Grandad was waiting (it’s okay, she’d left the window cracked a bit), put the bags in the boot and then went to jump into the driver’s seat.
Which was when she noticed something was amiss.
“Oh my god!” squawked my mother. To her great horror the back of her skirt was tucked up into the top of undies. “Have my knickers been showing the WHOLE time I was in the shops?” she asked my dad.
“Yep,” he chuckled. He’d happily watched her walk away from the car with the back door of her caboose open.
“Why didn’t you tell me!?”
“Well, I was going to,” he calmly explained, “but then it occurred to me you always get a good belly laugh when I’m in Bruce’s blog for doing dumb things, which made me wonder how much you’d love to be in it yourself. You wouldn’t have wanted me to take that away from you, would you?”
I know I wouldn’t, Grandad.
Meanwhile, if anyone knows a good grocer in G-town, preferably a short sighted one with a high counter, inbox me and I’ll pass the address on to my mother.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”