and my sister? makes it so easy for me to do my eddie haskell thing.

I revert to a fifteen-year-old when I stay at my mom and dad’s house. But not in a way that resembles my actual fifteen-year-old self. I revert to this sort of Eddie Haskell version of my fifteen-year-old self where I want to be the favorite. There’s no hope of my mom ever choosing favorites. She’s just all I love you all the same and you’re all so smart and beautiful and blah blah blah. But my dad? Can totally be bought.

This morning I offered to make him farina for breakfast. And if you had any idea how much I loathe making farina, you’d understand my weird desperation to be his favorite. All the whisking of the milk, the bringing just to a boil, the god damn stirring over medium heat, the fuckall pain-in-the-ass simmer until thickened. Gah! I hate it. But I did it. Because favorite daughter.

And my sister? Makes it so easy for me to do my Eddie Haskell thing. Like she never ever parks her cars where she’s supposed to. My dad is very specific about where it’s okay to park. He spends days and weeks putting reflectors on fence posts and big rocks along the driveway and shit like that to delineate where it’s okay to park. My sister? Totally ignores this. Which for me? Is excellent. Because then? When my dad’s all Jesus Christ, these god damn kids just do whatever the hell they want like they own the whole god damn place…. I can be all yeah! Jesus Christ! I’ll move the cars for you Dad, because hello? Have you met me? Perfect. Daughter.

The Sailor is my ace in the hole for this. Because he? Sent me a hat from his ship for my dad. And I totally didn’t know this until my dad told me, but there’s this patch on the side of the hat with some pirate flag or something on it because the Sailor? Is totally chasing pirates around the something something classified yada yada sea. And my dad thinks that is awesome and he’s pretty sure the Sailor’s a republican. Which seriously helps me.

Anyway. It seemed like it was all going really well. My dad and I were out doing ranch things together while my sister sat around not making farina and not parking where she’s supposed to and not being at all republican. But then he asked me to help him run the horses up to the high pasture, so he could take down an electric fence, which, of course, I did. But then? He laughed his ass off when he turned on the electric fence while I was holding it. Zzzzttt. My sister thought it was funny too. As did my brother. And like, everyone else.

But the Sailor? Better not be laughing.