Oh, Ma! Oh, Pa!

It's tradition. The folks come over for any and all holidays, and I cook up a storm. It was no different this Father's Day. We ate. We talked. We laughed. All was well in the world.

It's tradition. Mom and Dad bring back the Tupperware they took leftovers in from the last feast so I can pile more nummies for them to take back home. Usually, my parents throw a bunch of other stuff in the bag: a bottle of Diet Coke; magazines Mom subscribes to but never reads; random clothing items...

But this one takes the cake. For some reason, latex medical gloves were in the bag. I was afraid to ask why. My mind started swirling: Is this a reminder of how I should've stuck with being a doctor instead of dabbler-in-all-things-but-master-of-nothing? Is there a new Father's Day tradition where I'm supposed to check Dad's prostate? And WhyTF do my 'rents have latex gloves in the first place? Are they really playing doctor? Do they break open a box of wine and look at each other's sphincters on a Saturday night?

Needless to say, I needed the box of wine... I might sprout some balls and ask them what the dealio is. But I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer. Cuz really, who just happens to have a box of latex gloves laying around besides a doctor and a hooker?

Oh, God! I know Dad's overtime hours got cut....

Vurp.

xoxo,
RiRi