Romantic, I am not. Sweet however, is a whole different ball game. I can out sweet a basket full of puppies and a small child's lemonade stand. I have many sweet memories from the past, but I will keep it simple (and sweet) by just sharing one.
Like my lovely self, my dad works nights. Instead of 12 hour shifts, he works 8 hours, five nights a week. He would get home around 8:30 in the morning from his job at Livermore Lab. My mom, brother, and I would greet him and say goodnight.
One day my mom had the fun idea for us kiddos to hide from my dad when he got home. This was great, playing a trick on Dad was always fun. We chose excellent hiding spots behind the couch and anxiously awaited his arrival.
When Dad came home, he said hi to my mom then asked where us kids were. She replied, "I don't know? They must of run away!" My dad said something to the sort of, "Oh really? Well thank goodness for that, now we can go to Disneyland." My brother and I would pop out from the most secretive hiding place in the world, rush up to our parents, and beg to not be left behind.
The best part about this sweet story, is that this was a regular occurrence in our house a few times a month throughout my childhood. Sometimes we would hide behind the couch...other times under the piano. Every time we got a kick out of it. I think my parents did too.
A few months ago I was at my parent's house, talking to my mom, and she told me to hide behind her bedroom door. She called my dad into the room asking if he had seen me. Soon they were planning a trip to Disneyland without me and I was jumping out from behind the door begging to go.
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