After a rowdy afternoon at the park, Gary, the kids, and I went to Dairy Queen yesterday for ice cream. The kids love the high tables with the chairs that are more like bar stools, so we grouped around one of those to eat our ice cream.
Gary and the kids started goofing off, sliding my drink cup in front of me and nudging it toward me until it threatened to topple into my lap. Deciding to put an immediate end to their nonsense, I put on my strictest face, gave them “the look”, grabbed the drink cup with as much authority as I could muster, and started to step from my seat to toss the cup into the trash…
…when, like a klutz, I slipped rather ungracefully on the rung of my chair and promptly fell to the floor.
I could hear Gary laughing before I even stood back up. I picked myself up, put my strict face back on, and turned back to my misbehaving children (Gary is included in that category in this instance).
Were they intimidated by my sternness? Were they scrambling to sit up straight beneath my penetrating gaze?
No. Not even close. They were already imitating my fall from the table, tossing around short jokes (again), and laughing and giggling at my slip-up. Gary dropped to the floor and peered over the edge of the table, mocking me, pretending I can barely see over the top of the table, all the while chiding the kids in his best imitation of me. The kids loved it and practically gave him a standing ovation and nearly tossed rose stems at his feet.
I climbed back onto my chair and let them have their fun. One theory (put forth by Bear, I believe) is that I attempted to skydive from my seat, but my chute failed to open. Every theory, not surprisingly, had something to do with me being vertically-challenged.
I have no authority whatsoever. At least I can keep my family amused!