Eating Out, Out Of Control

(I am about fourteen. My dad has gotten a little obsessive over personal hygiene, leading to this conversation on several occasions during home-made dinners.)

Dad: “Did you wash you hands?”

Mum: “What?”

Dad: “Well, we can’t eat if you didn’t wash you hands before you cooked!”

Mum: “Oh, bloody h***, of course I washed my hands? What do you take me for?

(My dad continues to nag my mum about this for some time. When my parents, sister, and I decide to have take away some time later, my mum takes the opportunity to get revenge. We have parked to eat, and just as dad is about to bite into his burger, my mum stops him.)

Mum: “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Dad: “I don’t think so?”

Mum: “Did you ask the lady who served us at the window if she’d washed her hands?”

Dad: “Uh, no…”

(He goes for his burger but mum stops him again.)

Mum: “How do you know that the girl who served you hasn’t just been to the bathroom and wiped her bum? None of us are eating until you’ve gone back there and asked her if she’s washed her hands!”

Dad: “What? No!”

(This petty bickering goes on for while until, either by accident or on purpose, we’re not sure, my dad knocks his hot coffee into my mum’s lap. This finally shuts her up, but she’s still fuming. My sister and I, sitting in the back seat, have seen everything and are shocked.)

Me: “Mum, did… did dad just spill hot coffee in your lap?”

Mum: “Yes. Yes he did.”

(Without hesitation, I grab my milkshake, and upend it on my dad’s head. The drive home was very quiet, save for my sister trying to eat her chips.)