Why is my dad like this?
Every single time we're getting ready to leave, this happens. I feed the dragon, put our insulin in a thermos with ice, grab my glucose meter, make sure he's got his cell phone, make sure we have our tools, but none of it matters. I walk into the activities room and tell him I'm ready, because in my mind, all I have to do is slip on my shoes, which I consider the last thing before I go.
Dad: "You're not ready; you don't have your shoes on."
Me: "They're right next to the door; all I have to do is slip them on."
Dad: "Okay, well, I'll be reading e-mails until you're ready."
Me: "I'm ready!"
Dad: "Well, get your shoes on!"
Me, having literally stepped into them while arguing: "THEY'RE ON!"
Dad: "Okay, just a minute." *fuсks around on the computer for another half hour*
Dad: "You're not ready; you don't have your shoes on."
Me: "They're right next to the door; all I have to do is slip them on."
Dad: "Okay, well, I'll be reading e-mails until you're ready."
Me: "I'm ready!"
Dad: "Well, get your shoes on!"
Me, having literally stepped into them while arguing: "THEY'RE ON!"
Dad: "Okay, just a minute." *fuсks around on the computer for another half hour*
