He Thinks it's End Times and the Curse of the Fajitas

My dad has been able to rely on a few truths in life. Among them, the fact that his oldest daughter, his beloved first born cares not a fig for sports. Actually, I'm all for playing them, but I do not follow any teams and would rather take a beating than spend an afternoon watching a sporting event on TV. But, now he's questioning the universe and stockpiling supplies in order to survive whatever disaster is on its way.

Last Saturday, we all sat in my living room and watched OU beat Texas. I wasn't forced, they didn't beg, I just sat down with my parents and watched the game. Really, I got into it. We even taught Cayton to throw her hands up and yell, "Touchdown!" Daddy was pretty excited really, but I suspect a little surprised. Then, I busted out some college football facts and it was maybe too much. He and Blake left at halftime to go to Home Depot and didn't return until well into the fourth quarter.

Monday night, I tuned into Monday night football and that is something I've NEVER done. Then, following that insane game, it was ME that called him at 11:30 to discuss. I can confidently say that he was not expecting a call from me regarding the Cowboys, Romo's FIVE picks and TO's skillet hands. I imagine Daddy didn't get much sleep that night due to paranoia about missing the rapture or something.

But then, he should now by now that his girls are capable of just about anything.

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I am officially done with fajitas. Specifically, I am never going to eat fajitas at the Leons' house ever again. Now, before Phillip passes out thinking that I'm disparaging his cooking, let me clear that up. I have never, ever tasted fajitas as good as the ones that he makes. They are delicious and he cooks up fresh tortillas that really take an otherwise standard meal to another level.

But seriously, I have eaten my last delicious, mouth watering fajita. Let me 'splain. The last time we had fajitas at the Leon house, their oldest son Jonas had a run in with a chair and lost. Big time. He knocked out his front tooth. Luckily it was a baby tooth, but you just don't need that kind of drama when you're trying to eat.

The second time we ate fajitas at the Leons' house (which was Sunday), the curse got us again. We got home and went to our bedroom to get Cayton ready for bed. I tossed her onto my bed and stepped into the closet to get her a diaper. So, in the space of about 1 second, I heard a "thump" and then crazy screaming. I ran back out of the closet and saw Cayton lying on the floor and blood. Is there anything worse to see than your crying child and blood?

I picked my baby up and looked her over to see if she'd knocked her teeth out. For some reason, that is a serious fear of mine. Anyway, the teeth were fine but she'd bitten two holes in her bottom lip and she had a nice carpet burn stripe from her lip to the tip of her chin. How she managed to fall off the bed and skid across the rug, I do not know. But the poor baby was really hurt. I have to give her props though, she was tough. I know that she recovered a lot more quickly than I did.

So, my totally logical conclusion is that I am never eating fajitas at the Leons' house again. Of course, if he wants to make them at my house, then it will probably be fine.