My niece asked me to watch her son (5) and daughter (4) on Friday afternoon. Right before she dropped them off, she informed them that “she was going to visit Pap Pap in the hospital because he’s dying.” Thanks. Thanks for that.
Every stinking question for the next hour began with the phrase, “when Pap Pap dies….”.
What a mistake she made telling them before *I* watched them because she should have known I would mess with them. Hey, they’re not my offspring. I don’t have to live with the mental fallout.
And so it began.
"When Pap Pap dies, where will he go?" Florida. Unless he's been really bad and then he'll go to a place called "In-dee-uh," where he'll be forced to utter the phrase "Welcome to Dell, how may I help you?" for the rest of eternity.
“When Pap Pap dies who’s gonna get his stuff?” Whoever can drive to the house the fastest.
“When Pap Pap dies, will he see us?” Yes, and he’ll know if you’ve been naughty or nice, so you better get me an extra good Christmas present this year. I'm thinking upwards of $100.
"When Pap Pap dies, will he still say 'bullshit!' and 'damn it to hell!'?" Not if he has a lick of sense. (Isn't it great how Dad helped the grandkids build their vocabulary?)
“When Pap Pap dies, can we visit him?” Yes, but don’t expect much in the way of a conversation. It will be exactly like all those times you visited him and he was watching Wheel of Fortune, except you won’t have to listen to that stupid story about how he knows somebody who knows somebody who dated somebody who knew Vanna’s mother’s cousin, and he won't be screaming, "buy a vowel, jackass!"
“When Pap Pap dies will he be with Jesus?” No, I think he’ll be with somebody who knows somebody who dated somebody who knows Jesus.
“When Pap Pap dies will he lose weight?“ OUCH! The man's dying and you're worried about his waist size? Cut him some slack. I'm beginning to think death is my only weight loss option, too.
"When Pap Pap dies where will Nana live?" I only know it won't be with me. I value my sanity.
My favorite question was "When Pap Pap dies, will Nana still play bingo?" Unfortunately, yes, and she'll be doing it with what little inheritance I have left.
God love ‘em at least they helped me to laugh, and if I don't laugh, I'll cry.