The House of the Flying Hats

Okay. Sorry about that, everyone. I often go through phases where I want to change anything and everything, and I don't always think it through beforehand. It's like, I HAVE TO CHANGE THIS NOW!--but I never consider what I actually want something to look like until everything's completely different. So I didn't have any other ideas. And besides, could I ever really stop being the Queen? Honestly? That's a no.

Today's post is about my Dad.

He's the father of four daughters, and faithfully married for 21 years. We have a girl dog as well. So my Dad is constantly surrounded by women. Everywhere. Estrogen abounds!

I'm probably the closest thing he has to a son. I'm a bit of a tomboy when I want to be, and I know how to really get in his head and make him angry. We're sort of...buddies.

Getting to the point...one thing's for sure, my Dad loves his hats.

He wears them all the time. He's got a chronic case of hat head. To be specific, they're baseball caps. He doesn't prefer beanies or Gilligan (from Gilligan's Island, o'course) hats. They're all baseball caps. Winter, summer, spring or fall--rain, snow, or sun, my dad is wearing a hat.

Today I was trying to get under his skin. Make him laugh because he's so angry. I kept grabbing his hat off his head, and hiding it. He kept grabbing another one--he seems to have them stashed in random places all over the house. Most of them, however, are on the shelf above his bed. I gave him a deal--he bought me more books, I'd give him back his most recent hat (Washington Nationals...He says: "Sure they suck, but it's just a hat"). He says no deal. So I tell him that he doesn't get his hat back--any of them for that matter.

I bolted upstairs with him on my heels, and ran into his room. I locked the door and started laughing maniacally--I'm such a bad kid, I know--and joking about how I was going to throw all of his hats out the window. But then I got the idea...why joke? Why not actually throw them all out the window?

Woooo boy. Was he mad. He was so mad, but he was trying not to laugh as well, because he knew how good of a trick it was. He chased me all around the house and yard, but couldn't catch me. And he stopped when he fell and scuffed his knee. I was trying to feel bad for his knee, but I was laughing too hard.

But I'm a good daughter. I eventually collected up the hats and put them back.

I got the last laugh this time. HAH!